Breaking the Habit
by Ame the Pirate Queen
Summary: In an abusive relationship with Ron, Hermione has become a pale shadow of what she once was. Perhaps one Bulgarian Quidditch player can give her the hope and life she secretly craves, or will his intervention come too late?
1. Torture

Author Note: Another story…This fic contains some dark themes in the beginning, but I promise it will get brighter as it continues.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

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Breaking the Habit

Chapter One - Torture

Tears oozed down Hermione's cheeks as she looked up at her boyfriend through her one good eye, the other swollen closed. Most might consider him to be a fine specimen of manhood, but the sight of his visage soured her insides with terror and hatred. She cried out as his fist connected solidly with the side of her face. She hung limply in his grasp as pain exploded behind her closed lids and a coppery taste blossomed in her mouth. He roughly shook her, the pressure his fingers exerted on the flesh of her arm colouring the pale skin purple and green. His lips pulled away from his teeth in a mockery of a smile and a sharp growl emerged from his throat.

"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"

She let out a choked sob, shaking her head and unconsciously cowered closer to the crimson speckled floor as she tried to get away from his balled up hand. He snorted and roughly jerked her around, before throwing her to the ground at his feet. She curled up in the smallest position she can manage before the agony in her chest threatened to steal consciousness from her. He pressed his booted foot against her chest, forcing her to roll onto her back. A stifled noise escaped from her mouth as her remaining orb snapped open and stared up at him in horror.

He laughed, a strange inhuman noise that echoed throughout the trashed insides of the cheap apartment, and increased the force until her chest barely rose with each breath she drew in through her gasping mouth. A sickening crack came from the general area of her ribcage and he rapidly stood on his own two feet once more. She barely moved when he released her, the blinding agony every time she attempted to bring fresh oxygen into her system forced her to remain as still as she could be.

"Remember this next time you consider sleeping with another man." He pulled his wand out of his clothes and with a simple flick, disappears in a crack of displaced air.

Her bruised body trembled pathetically in a heap, blood trickling from numerous abrasions. She lay there for countless minutes, trying to work up enough of the famous Gryffindor courage to move in the direction of her own wand some several feet away. Fresh tears left stinging tracks across her face as splinters of pain darkening her vision. Hermione sniffled into one of her palms and reached out feebly towards the smoothed branch that had rolled beneath her coffee table.

It felt so close, yet the mind crushing sensation kept her from crawling across the stained carpet towards it. Her head rolled backwards and she stared up at the ceiling with blank, dead eyes that shone with tears that had yet to have a chance let their salt make the cuts on her cheeks burn further. She knew that if she could just wrap her trembling fingers around it she could relieve much of the agony she was going through, yet that consolation could not get her to shift. In times of extreme pain, she found that she reverted to a childlike point of view.

If something would hurt, she would not do it. She continued to argue with herself until she sucked in a particularly deep gulp of air to beat off the darkness threatening to cover her vision and let out a very audible screech. At least one of her ribs was definitely broken and had to be pressing into her lungs. Suddenly, she found a tiny reservoir of courage and with the last vestige of her adult mindset; drug herself the yard to her most beloved wand. Ever thankful for her training as a medi-witch, she gratefully cast the necessary charms that patched her aching body up.

Within seconds of retrieving the device that converted the magic within her into something usable, she was more than able to move into a sitting position without sobbing breathlessly. She quickly rose to her feet, angrily brushing those traitorous tears off of her skin. Looking at her then, if one ignored the blood still staining much of her clothing and flesh, no creature would be able to tell that she had just been beaten within an inch of her life by one of the few people who she was supposed to be able to trust the most.

She gazed down at the carpet flecked with crimson before whispering the words to several cleaning spells. She hastily tidied up her small flat, returning it to its state of almost unnatural cleanliness. Without much further ado, she stumbled into her bathroom and proceeded to scrub the taint of one Ronald Weasley off of her for the moment with water seemingly hot enough to melt iron.

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Hermione clutched the fragile porcelain of her cup, dull cinnamon eyes staring blankly at the flaky wrought iron table before her. She hated herself. She had been in an abusive relationship for close to a year, but could not tear herself out of it. She could not be strong enough to leave the man who beat her on a regular basis and brutalized her unwilling body. No matter how many times he physically hurt her, she kept on coming back. She was too bloody afraid of ending up alone to leave Ron.

The very thought of nobody caring if she lived or died terrified her even more than her 'boyfriend's' next visit. She did not want to end up like the women she had heard of, never married and without children, who passed away without a single person there to comfort them in their last moments. She ignored the thought that if she did not leave Ron, she very well might be beaten so badly that she too would die alone because she was too injured to get help. She still, even after all those torturous months of this constant fear of violence, could not comprehend his sudden change from sweet and compassionate man to a brutal, cold monster.

It had happened so suddenly. About half a year into their relationship, they had spent an afternoon at the house Harry bought for himself and Ginny after they were married; a peculiar emotion came to life in Ron's once beautiful cyan eyes when he saw his girlfriend affectionately, chastely kiss Harry's cheek. The moment they had apparated to Hermione's modest abode, he had held her sharply by the forearm and asked her in a tight voice why she insisted on cheating on him with Harry, their best friend since childhood.

The comment had confused her so badly that she had simply looked up at him with a puzzled expression on her features, unable to answer. He growled in an animalistic way before sharply slapping her. It had been the first time he had ever harmed her and she silently wished that she had turned her back on him then. Once, she had been listened to a woman speak about her own experience with domestic abuse. She said that the longer a woman, any person for that matter, remained in a relationship where they were beaten on a regular basis; it would only get harder to break away from it.

If only she had listened! Every time he would harm her, at least until recently, he would apologize profusely and beg for her forgiveness afterwards. She would tell herself then that that was the last time, her wonderfully caring Ron would never hit her on purpose. He got so blinded by his anger he just forgot that he was not fighting with one of his male mate's, but his girlfriend. That line of reasoning grew old very quickly. She rapidly set her china cup down onto its saucer and brought her eyes up from the table to watch the people wandering about vacantly.

The new term at Hogwarts was nearing its beginning and a multitude of eager students were hurriedly rushing about Diagon Alley collecting the items they would need for their upcoming school term. She sighed sadly to herself, how she wished she could go back in time and redo the last few years. She went to drag her fingers through her curly hair, when a masculine voice happily sounded in front of her unseeing eyes.

"Herm-own-ninny!"

Her gaze rapidly snapped to the tall man standing close to her, beaming down at her like she was solely responsible for making the sun rise in the morning and set in the evening.

"Viktor?" She gasped quietly and quickly motioned for him to take the vacant seat across from her.

He rapidly took the proffered chair and watched her with amazingly warm obsidian hues. "I am sorry for calling you that, it vos the only thing I could say to catch your attention."

Worry gnawed at her insides as she looked at him, the desire to talk with a friend conflicting with her instinctive fear of Ron catching her speaking with a man who was not him. It did not take her long to make her decision, a little of her old defiance sparking to life briefly.

"No need for an apology, I was off in my own little world. What are you doing here in England?" She made a quiet noise in the back of her throat as she realized something. "Has it really been almost three years since we last saw each other face to face?" He had come to her graduation, sitting in the place that was usually reserved for a student's parents.

Dan and Emma Granger were killed in the last year of the War, a loss she felt Ron had fully taken advantage of.

He nodded sadly in response to her second question. "It has, vhy have you not responded too many of my letters?"

Her cheeks flushed slightly at his questions and begin to fiddle with the slightly rough hem of her soft cotton sweater, attempting to keep herself from meeting his gaze. "Well…I have been very busy, there hasn't been time…" She sort of trailed off after a few words, not wanting to lie to him.

Something in his face closed and he began to stand up, taking her stammering response as an attempt at politely asking him to leave her. "Vell, I vill see you…"

"Wait! Please don't go, I didn't mean that in a bad way." She anxiously said, looking up at him with a tinge of desperation colouring her voice.

He looked down at her and slowly let his backside reconnect with the chair, before letting his slightly cool stare return to her. "Then how did you mean it?"

She swallowed heavily past a sudden lump in the back of her throat and nervously tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I, er…my relationship with Ron has been taking up most of my time. I've been trying to salvage what is left of it…" Gloomy pain spread across her pretty features as she let out a nearly soundless sigh, attempting to make her rendition of her affiliation with Ron sound better than it really was.

Viktor caught on to her reluctance to talk about the Weasley boy, a stab of jealously curdling his stomach. Of _course_ Hermione would be dating him, had not everyone said that those two were made for each other and he had little to no chance with the beautiful brunet who had utterly consumed his thoughts since he had first seen her when he was eighteen? If he could not be romantically involved with her, however, he was more than willing to settle for friendship. He would take anything he could have with her.

A compassionate smile spread across his lips as he motioned vaguely with his hand. "Ah, then let us forget about it then. It is not important. How have you been?"

She shrugged. "I have been doing…well. And yourself?" No matter how desperately she wanted to tell the man before her about the situation she was in, she knew she could not.

"I have been better, thank you for asking." He paused for a moment, seemingly steeling himself for a negative response, before continuing. "Vould you like…"

Her eyes widened suddenly as she caught sight of something over his shoulder, a flash of utter terror flashing across her features. She lurched to her feet and snatched her bag off of the ground. Her chest rapidly rose and fell as she grew drastically close to hyperventilation.

"I have to go; it was wonderful seeing you again." She called over her shoulder as she ran the fastest she could out of the quaint café, without a backward glance.

Viktor turned abruptly in his chair to try and catch what had sent her into such a state of horror. He could see nothing, though as he was straightening his back, he would have sworn he saw the briefest flash of carrot hued hair before it disappeared out of his peripheral vision. His heavy brow furrowed slightly as he began to ponder the peculiar enigma. He, being a gentleman, quickly paid for Hermione's bill and just as he was leaving, noticed a small leather object on the ground.

He stooped to pick it up and was decidedly pleased to discover it belonged to Hermione. She had left her wallet, something he remembered her speaking out as something most Muggles carried. He opened it quickly and soon found her address on a small piece of plastic, before slipping it into the pocket of his robes. He would definitely be paying her a visit later that day.

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Please tell me what you think of this new story, I rather like it so far.

Blessed Be

Ame


	2. Heal Me

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Author Note: Mhh…This chapter is not very dark and there is a brief bit of fluff between Viktor and Hermione towards the bottom. I want it known now that I am Wiccan. So, this story and all my others will reflect my religion. If such talk offends you, I apologize, but I am not going to take words I use in my everyday life out of things I write when others are not required to. Alright, everyone understands this? I will _not_ tolerate anybody telling me that it is wrong for me to say the things I do, this happened a lot on my other username. If you _really_ feel the need to tell me why I am damning myself or something of the sort, email me. Do not leave it in a review. My minor rant is over, sorry for taking up your time.**

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Breaking the Habit

Chapter Two – Heal Me

As Hermione dodged through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, the only thought racing across her brain was the fear that her boyfriend had seen her. She would not survive two beatings in a single week. The first familiar shop that broke through the barricade in her mind was Triple W, or Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She skidded to a halt before the sickeningly orange store front, before flinging herself in. Despite her loathing of the family's youngest son, she could not help but adore the rest of the clan.

She trusted them, though she would never tell them, or anyone else, about what happened between herself and Ron. To her luck, the shop was extremely crowded and she easily lost herself within the throng of excited bodies. She let out a shaky breath and leaned against a display, rubbing a trembling hand across her face. If she forced herself enough, she could loose herself in the happy chatter of young mischief makers and forget.

She snorted quietly to herself and wrapped her arms loosely around her abdomen. She did not even know if the man she saw was Ron. She simply caught a glimpse of orange hair and let her instincts take over. After a quiet sigh passed from her mouth, she straightened her back before walking up to the counter. One of the twins beamed down to her and she returned it with a weak smile that no where near reached her eyes.

"Hello George, may I use your floo quickly?"

His brow lifted in that trademark smirk. "I'm Fred."

"George..." She said simply, not in the mood to argue with him about his identity.

He muttered to himself how he never knew how exactly she could tell him and his brother apart when even their own mother had difficulty doing it at times, before nodding his acquiescence. "Sure, Ron would get on my case if he ever found out I deprived his precious Hermione of something she so desperately needed."

He saw something like a mixture of loathing and fear flicker across her face before she tightly reigned in her emotions, a forced expression that looked more like a grimace than something happy settling on her lips. She stepped quickly behind the counter and ducked into the backroom. Within seconds she had thrown a small handful of the glittering emerald powder into the flames and called out her destination.

She stepped into the whirling flames and her last sight of the shop was a worried air that lingered on George's features. Her offset balance cancelled all thoughts about that peculiar look and she promptly stumbled once she found herself standing on her own hearth. She drew in a shaky breath, the flecks of ash that had been kicked up upon her arrival sticking to her throat not irritating her, and called out to check if anybody was in her home.

"R-Ron?" She winced inwardly at the stutter, unconsciously shuddering as his name slid around on her tongue leaving a slick, unpleasant oily sensation behind it.

To her extreme relief, no answer came and she gratefully sank into one of the dark red armchairs by her recently cleaned coffee table. Her forehead fell into her open palms as her petite body shook furiously, the animalistic dread that had consumed her since she had been sitting in the café with Viktor began to leave her bones.

"Oh Goddess," she quite suddenly gasped, her head jerking up, "I just left Viktor there! He must think I am such a boorish creature!' She did not understand, however, why she was so utterly concerned with his opinion of her.

True, they had been friends for quite some time, but she had not thought of him for several months until he sat down at her table earlier. She let out a soft groan and pushed his presence out of her mind. She was not in the mood to contemplate the only other man who had ever made her logical heart flutter like that of a brainless schoolgirl, though she refused to admit such information to herself however.

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Hermione picked up one of the pots bubbling merrily away at her stove and carried it to the sink. She began to pour the boiling water into a strainer, the cooked pasta hitting the cool plastic of the colander with unpleasant sucking noises. The doorbell suddenly rang and she sloshed the last of the ridiculously hot liquid onto the hand that held the sieve in place.

She squeaked in pain, tears springing to her eyes and she promptly let the metal pot drop into the other side of the divided sink. Not remembering at that moment where she had put her wand, she simply wiped her skin against the nearest kitchen towel before hurrying to the door. Upon pushing it open, she was extremely surprised to find a slightly nervous Viktor Krum.

"Viktor?" She asked, head tilted to the side in a questioning manner.

An affectionate smile spread across his face. "Hermione! I am sorry for barging in on you like this, but…Vhat did you do to your hand?"

She looked down and winced at the angry, dark pink flesh. The burnt area suddenly began to throb in the most unpleasant way and she very nearly moaned from pain. She looked up at him with a gaze that started to glitter with unshed tears, her own weakness appalling to her.

"I was cooking and when the bell rang, it surprised me so I accidentally spilt boiling water on myself."

"Vhere is your vand?" When she simply stared at him blankly, he stepped into the flat and gently pushed her towards the armchair she had vacated a few hours earlier. "Sit, I vill heal it for you."

"You really don't have to. It is around here, somewhere."

Their eyes met and his shown with uncontained warmth, something she was unused to being directed at her. "I vant to help you." That simple phrase held an amazing amount of genuine emotion.

It caused her to sit without pausing to think about her actions. He knelt in front of her and gently cradled her injured limb in his palm, which fit together near perfectly. As he worked quickly, his thumb absently rubbed against the smooth skin of her inner wrist, completely distracting her from paying attention to the spells he used.

Her mind branched away from the world around her as she instantly began to think about the life she could have led if she had not succumbed to Ron's 'affections'. The only romantic attention she could recall receiving had been from the man before her and her boyfriend, their ways of treating her, even in the beginning, were drastically different. Viktor's shyness and peculiar attraction to someone as common as herself had intrigued her. Ron, on the other hand, once he realized that he was liked her, had acted completely self confident and expected that she would go to him when he got around to asking.

It ashamed her, but he was correct. There had been little physical attraction on her part towards him, but due to her phobia of being alone, she leapt at the chance of having a significant other. Sure, the first six months or so of their relationship once they graduated had been idyllic, but once they spent that day at the Potter's, she lived in constant terror. How different everything could have turned out if she simply had chosen another person in Ron's role.

A voice she thought to be dead, whispered softly in her mind. 'It doesn't have to be this way. You're only twenty, your life is no where near over. Choose someone else…Someone like Viktor.'

'If I even try to break up with Ron, my life will end very quickly. He's an auror; he would find a way to blame my untimely death on some rogue Death Eater.'

'Viktor would protect you.'

'Against a fully trained auror? While I would be touched at the gesture, he would never survive. He is probably all ready married. He is a big star and he must be twenty four now. Somebody already won the proverbial lottery and got him. I am ceasing this conversation with myself.'

She realized quite suddenly that they were staring at each other and he had long since finished healing her burn. A faint flush coloured her unhealthily pale cheeks a soft pink, yet she could not bring herself to pull her hand away from his. It felt somehow, right. This was the sensation that was missing when Ron touched her, at least whenever they came in contact with each other and he was not hurting her. She noticed that in the few seconds she had been attacked by mental cobwebs, his eyes had drifted to her exposed forearm.

Earlier, when she had been pouring the pasta and hot water into the strainer, she had pushed her long sleeves up past her elbows to keep from getting them wet. She had forgotten to unroll them somewhere between burning herself and opening the door. Several pearly scars ran along the length of her inner arm, magical remnants of some of the curses Ron had used her as a test subject for. No matter how many different charms she used while studying to be a medi-witch had been able to make them disappear.

The curse left distinct marks.

The skin had turned a grey hue and was raised, puckered. Only aurors used the curse, she was not sure how they regulated use of it, but it would not work if another attempted to speak it. All throughout the wizarding newspapers earlier that year, reporters had raved about this wonderful new spell that could mark dark wizards and witches. A picture of a captured Death Eater with the peculiar blemish had been included in the vast majority of the articles so that these marked individuals could be identified by the general public. His brow furrowed and it was clear, he recognized them but simply could not place them. Hermione jerked her hand out of his grasp and quickly pushed her sleeves down to cover herself, unconsciously clearing her throat nervously.

"Th-Thank you for helping me Viktor."

He shook his head quickly to clear his head before letting an easy smile flush his face as he looked up at her. "You have no need to thank me. It vos the least I could do for you."

She threw a momentary glance at the clock on the coffee table that she could just see over Viktor's shoulder; trying her best to ignore the apparent tenderness in his voice. "I know that it is early, but I was fixing myself dinner when you arrived. I made more than enough to feed two people…" She had no idea why she was inviting him to eat with her.

Her common sense screamed at her to kick him out of her apartment as soon as she could, just incase Ron popped in without first checking that she was home. Yet, some stubborn and much downtrodden part of her yearned for the company of someone she instinctively knew would _never_ harm her. She was weak, her boyfriend surely told her that enough, and she gave into that little voice that cried for love.

Perhaps Viktor could not give her the type of attention that she truly craved, but any company would be better than that of her abusive significant other. She desperately wanted to distrust everyone, yet she could not help but have faith in the Bulgarian watching her with such want in his dark eyes. A rare smile tugged her lips up slightly at the corners, it bringing some light into her normally deadened hues.

While he was surprised at her offer, he answered quickly. "I vould like to dine vith you. Vhat are ve eating?"

"Pasta." She murmured softly, suddenly shyer that she remembered being in quite some time. "I actually need to go finish it; you can stay here or come with me to the kitchen…" She rose and began to walk, he following close behind.

A tiny thrill of excitement ran through her at defying Ron and, unbeknownst to her conscious mind, that spark of rebelliousness rooted somewhere deep within her soul. Strength came to her and slowly, it would nurture her back to life.

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**Thank you all _so_ much for reviewing. It is food for a writer's soul. The more people who review, the faster I will update.**

**Blessed Be**

**Ame**


	3. Violence

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Sorry about the wait, but this chapter was extremely difficult for me to write. Once you read it, the reason becomes quite apparent. Here is the only warning I am going to post for this chapter, if anyone complains about it I will be displeased. This chapter contains, more like is, rape. I tried to keep it from being extremely graphic, but it is what it is. I promise an update within the next day or two, especially because this one is so short and unsettling. Please don't let this chapter put you off this story, I promise that this will be the only one entirely like this.

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Breaking the Habit

Chapter Three – Violence

Hermione smiled to herself as she rubbed a sponge in a circular motion on a plate, letting her mind drift in the monotonous gesture. She could clean up dinner by use of magic, but it, apart from cooking if she had the time, was one of the few things that helped her stay in touch with her muggle roots. For a brief half hour, all thoughts about Ron and the horrors of their relationship trickled out of her consciousness. She lost herself in the conversation and felt surprisingly peaceful while Viktor looked at her with such deep affection shining unhidden on his face.

A slight flush rose to her as the image of his face sprung to her mind's eye and she quickly brushed it away. It would not bode well for her if she lingered on such a picture. Viktor could not return to her home, the chance that Ron could have arrived while he was there was not one she was willing to take. Her life might not have been worth much, but she clung to the torn fabric in an attempt to stay alive. She put the last dish away and dried her hands, absently rubbing against the smooth skin that was all that remained of her burn.

A soft purring noise brought her attention out of her imagination and she looked down at her ancient cat, kneeling down to be closer to it. She scratched his head and cooed softly; clutching the last vestiges of the phantasmagoric state Viktor's presence had lent her. Crookshanks butted his nose against her palm before stalking out of the kitchen, most likely to litter her favourite armchair with more of his ginger hair. She stayed kneeling on the cheap butter coloured linoleum, her fingers tangling loosely in her lap.

Thick curls of chocolate fell across her cheeks as she sighed quietly, her vision clouding. A door slammed open somewhere near the front of her apartment and her entire body tensed. A tall shape moved closer to her and she looked up at him, face entirely blank. Orange hair and cyan hues was a recipe for the complete shutdown of her mental functions. She swallowed thickly past her rising gorge and forced a weak smile onto her lips.

"Hello Ron." She whispered quietly.

He watched her, his gaze flitting around the room. She was infinitely glad that she had had the foresight to clean the dishes as soon as Viktor left instead of forgetting about them for a while. When he could not find anything instantly suspicious at first glance, one of those heart melting grins spread across his face. If she did not know what he was capable, she would have been won over by that look.

He crouched down before her and gently tucked his fingers beneath her chin, gently forcing her face up. "Hey Mione."

It was in the moments like that one where she could almost disregard his abusive tendencies. It felt like their relationship in the first few months when her pulse would begin to beat faster whenever he came near her and she felt on top of the world. Of course, she rapidly fell from that joyous peak when she caught the glimmer of hardly repressed violence lingering in his gaze. She cleared her throat nervously and began to rise, uncomfortable with how close he had come to her.

That mildly affectionate gleam on his face snapped away and a cry died stillborn in her mouth as she saw the darkness in him warp his sweet cornflower hued orbs into a mockery of their lost purity. She pressed her had against her lips and darted around him. She barely got two steps into the living room before he grabbed her by the hair and ceased her movement. She yelped at the sharp pain, but it did not stop her from trying to twist out of his grasp. He jerked her hard, causing her neck to snap and her knees to buckle.

The moment she was unable to support her weight, he promptly dropped her and chuckled at the soft noise of discomfort she made. Her hands flew out to support her, but they did little when his heavily booted foot connected with her side. She collapsed entirely upon the ground and within seconds he was before her. The abrupt sound of ripping cloth jarred her and she let out a soft sob as her bare flesh suddenly became exposed to the cool air.

He roughly pinned her down with his weight, his garments rubbing coarsely against her. His fingers roughly grasped her breasts and she choked on her breath, his short nails ripping shallow furrows across the once milky hued flesh. Upon hearing her cry, he slammed his fist into her cheek in an effort to make her create more of those pained noises. He had no trouble getting it up if the woman beneath him shook in fear and sobbed, yet once those sounds stopped he went limp and nothing would bring him back to full mast. No matter how hard she tried to be silent, when the hurt came she could not help but let her soreness be known.

She turned her face to the side, her bruised cheek throbbing uncomfortably against the bristles of the mat. If she tried enough, she could distance herself enough from his lecherous hands and the gleam in his eyes. He momentarily pulled away and she fought the instinct to curl her legs up against her, blocking him from ever entering her. She knew what he was doing and it turned her brain into a quivering mess of terror. She clenched her eyes shut, moisture swelling behind her lids.

Crying was a weakness, she had learnt since her 'romantic' relationship with Ron started, and she detested herself with a fierce passion whenever those much loathed droplets began to form. His hated presence suddenly reappeared, choking her with its nearness. She lay there passively as his hands gripped her hips with a bruising quality and her legs forced wide open. The only signs that she had not died were the rapid rising and falling of her chest and the occasional whimper that escaped from her mouth.

The searing agony came without warning, a great ripping sensation that felt like it tore her in half. She had been a virgin the first time he took her and that experience bore no resemblance to the heated exchanges she read about in those novels written, for the most part, with little talent yet still seemed to fly of the shelves of bookstores. The pain began to take on a rhythmic quality, fading briefly as much of his length left her and then blossoming into full strength as he reentered.

She wished that it was the only agony he submitted her to was that of his violation, but his teeth ravaged her breasts and a full fledged scream erupted from her throat as the sharp edges of the enamel ripped through the overly sensitized, delicate flesh of her nipple. Her hands flew up from their position at her sides and her naturally pointed fingernails parted the skin of his back easily. He roared in discomfort and once more punched her solidly on the unblemished side of her face, the one that was unintentionally presented.

Her flailing limbs stilled and treacherous salty tears began to stream down her visible, purpling cheek. To her greatest relief, his body grew briefly still. He plunged deeply into her unwilling depths, releasing his putrescence into her cervix. He withdrew and hastily wiped the mixture of blood and semen off of himself with a portion of her ruined shirt. He threw the stained material onto her abdomen, a sneer evident in his voice.

"Clean yourself up and, remember, nobody will ever want used good likes you. I am the only person who will ever take a second glance at you."

As he dressed, she rolled slowly onto her side and curled into a small ball. Her arms slipped around her stomach and her torso shook with the force of her sobs. His callous laughter echoed above her and she tried to ignore the feel of that sticky rag pressing against her. She absently heard the front door to her home slam shut as her boyfriend left her and she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. She ached all over and gingerly touched the sluggish bleeding bite marks marring her breasts and neck.

They stung at the contact and peeled the scrap of cloth off of her, throwing it across the room. He could sate himself in one of the many bordellos down Knockturn Alley, she was sure he did, but it he would always come back to her and hurt her. Despite herself, she believed his mordant words. A soft sigh slipped from her and she started to rummage through her discarded, torn clothing in search of her wand. Each time he brutalized her she would heal the damage and be fresh, unblemished for his return.

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Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Again, the more reviews I get, the faster I will update.

Blessed be

Ame


	4. The Attack

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. _

_Author Note: I told you I would update quickly! As of right now, Chapter Three has gotten almost twenty reviews. Thank you guys so much, I told you that the more of you review that faster I will update. I can't help it; I wouldn't want my readers to get angry with me. The plot is being introduced in this chapter; yes there will actually be one of those in the story._

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Breaking the Habit

Chapter Four – The Attack

In a dismal world where she lived in dread of her boyfriend's next visit, there were few things that Hermione still found joy in. One of these ways was her job at St. Mungo's. It was a place where, for a brief period of time, she could loose herself in making other people's lives better. Everybody believed the war would be over by the end of the seventh year of the 'Golden Trio'. After being out of school for a year, that particular line of thought had died out. The Wizarding World still fought Voldemort and his ever growing band of Death Eaters.

The Light Side's forces steadily dwindled from the constant battles and faith in the Ministry was all but gone. Due to the skirmishes between the sides, St. Mungo's had a constant supply of wounded trickling in. No matter what happened after work or on the weekends, Hermione would always heal herself to the best of her extensive ability and show up. Without her aid, someone might die and she refused to have such a smear on her conscience. The Monday after Ron decided to lavish his attention on her, she walked into the hospital as she usually did and was immediately cornered by one of her superiors who looked far more frazzled than usual.

"Miss Granger, you are needed on the fourth floor immediately."

She nodded grimly and picked up her pace, the huddles of people that never seemed to leave the lobby parting for the determined looking Healer coming towards them. Hermione soon found herself amongst floating pallets holding writhing men and women, in various states of agony. It had taken her six months to become a full fledged medi-witch, something that had been utterly unheard of. It usually took somewhere between one or two years for those most committed.

But not for her, no she spent every waking moment studying so she could go out and make a difference in the world, chance someone's life. Those first weeks when she dealt with the mortally wounded, she had barely been able to fight down the need to vomit at the extent of their injuries. The desensitization to those screaming in pain had come rapidly to save her self from breaking down. She flicked her wand over a seemingly unconscious young man, his dark hair and facial structure reminding her uncannily of another. She swallowed heavily and quickly pulled a sheet over the newly deceased; She quietly murmured a blessing under her breath, wishing him a speedy flight to the Summerland.

It made her heart ache the number of people who passed on from the monsters who believed that they were worthless simply because of their blood. A frantic voice caught her attention, somebody anxiously calling for her. She rushed to the side of one of her fellow medics and did not bother to silence her gasp when she looked down at the patient. She recognized that slightly birdlike nose, those hues such a dark brown they looked black, and that hair. Despite the serious wounds marring his visage, there was only one person who it could be. Her hand that did not clutch her wand pressed against her chest as tears sprung to the corners of her eyes as a single word slipped from her mouth.

"Viktor…"

The woman beside her snapped her gaze to Hermione. "This man is Viktor Krum? We saw the Vrasta Vulture emblem on his robes, but we could not identify him. Can you help him?"

Hermione looked at her coworker and spoke in a trembling tone. "I…I don't know. What curse was used on him?"

She listened intently to what was said before motioning for the other to leave her. It would be difficult enough to tackle her own emotions to her dying friend before her so that they did not interfere with healing him, but in her heart of hearts a vicious voice whispered that he was too far gone for her help. She tightened her hold on her wand and began to chant. She would help him; she would honor the oath she had taken six months before during her induction into this profession.

He would not die on her watch. Spell after spell slipped from betwixt her lips, to the point where she lost track of what was said as her body took full control. With her mind constantly thinking of the what ifs, she very well might loose him in at the most crucial time. She suddenly snapped back and looked down in surprise. She felt like a few brief seconds had gone by since she began, but those livid slashes across Viktor's cheeks had disappear and the wet sound in his breathing also had faded.

Although it strictly was not in procedure, she shoved her wand into a pocket and ran her hands along his chest. Nothing pressed against her palms at awkward angles, only the familiar bumps of his ribcage forming its natural protective bubble around his heart and lungs. She let out a shaky sigh and with a simple tap of her finger on the hovering table, it shot off towards an exit, taking her Viktor to a room where he could recover fully.

* * *

Hermione slid into a chair in the one of the break rooms of St. Mungo's, cradling her head in her hands. A fierce pounding had taken root at her temples and the base of her skull and she wanted nothing more than to apparate home to crawl into her bed in a very dark room. Somebody pushed a cup of tepid tea across the table to her and she took it gratefully, not particularly minding the lukewarm temperature. The overly sweetened liquid lent a feeble strength to her tired body and she sighed heavily into her mug. She considered folding her arms on the desk and burying her head in them to catch a few minutes of sleep, when a conversation behind her caught her attention.

"…appeared at their practice, or so I heard."

"But why would someone want to attack the Vrasta Vultures? Especially when they are on English soil for the World Cup?"

"Who knows? Nobody has a clue why those crazy sods choose to assail the people they do. I mean, perhaps one of the players upset a Death Eater at some point in their life? Anything could be used as a reason."

"They must have been so surprised, if their injuries are anything to go by. Do you know if any of the players were killed?"

"Strangely enough, no. None of the team were murdered, but several of the spectators were. I think, actually, that the stadium they were practicing in exploded and the only reason the players did not get destroyed was because they were flying…"

Hermione promptly stood up, forgetting her tea in a moment. She did not want to hear anymore about the attack, the very idea that Viktor was almost killed made her stomach roll. The loud screech of the legs of her chair scraping against the floor brought a still quiet to the room and all eyes were on her as she fled the room. There was only one place she could go to calm her sudden fears and for a moment she was extremely glad for the rumours that had been spread about her and the Bulgarian seeker.

She easily passed by the Aurors mulling about the recovering patient's rooms, though that might have been cause of the healer's insignia emblazoned upon the breast of her robes. She came close to bursting into tears when she saw him lying on the bed, his eyes closed and naturally light gold skin wan. She sunk into one of the uncomfortable chairs beside him, gently touching his cheek with her shaking fingers. A salty droplet slipped down her face as she sniffled quietly, unable to help herself. Relief like she had never felt before slammed into her as she watched his chest steadily rise and fall in time with his breathing, unable to believe something as simple as watching him fill his lungs could bring her such peace.

She had saved him; he would not pass on that day. She would be able to see him a little while longer before he went back to Bulgaria when the Quidditch season ended for the year. She did not bother to wipe her tears away, though she wished she had when his eyes fluttered open. He looked around in confusion until he saw her, a sense of recognition and relief warming his features. Her own breathing stopped for a moment as she recognized the new emotion in his dark hue, _love_.

"Hermione…"

A watery smile tugged at her lips, a peculiar feeling growing in her heart as she ripped her gaze away from that tantalizing glow on his countenance. "You're at St. Mungo's."

"Vhy?" She kept herself from weeping harder as he spoke, the fact that he would recover continuing to awe her.

"There was an attack, you and your team almost died."

"Are they okay?"

"Everyone survived, though the people in the stands didn't make it."

He merely nodded, clearly exhausted from his body's effort to return to homeostasis. She watched him with clear affection shining in her eyes as his own began to close once more. She smoothed the hair that had fallen across his forehead back, unconscious to what she was doing. He made a small noise in the back of her throat and she brushed her mouth against his brow, unable to help herself from touching him a little longer.

"Sleep Viktor, you are safe here. I'll come back and visit you against once my shift is over." She could not be sure if he heard her, for one glance at him told that he had fallen asleep once more.

She hastily brushed her tears away and began to walk towards the door, the alien emotion of hope blossoming in her broken, wounded soul. She had long since thought she stopped believing in knights in shining armor sweeping women off their feet, yet a part of her never gave up wishing. Perhaps someday it would finally be her turn to be saved.

* * *

What felt like days after she left, Hermione unlocked the door to her flat and walked inside. She dropped her purse on the coffee table and collapsed on the sofa, pressing her head into a pillow. Exhaustion ate at her and knew that she had over extended herself, used too much of her magic at one time. It happened from time to time when a vast number of wounded came into the hospital. She could not help it.

She would willingly give up all of her magic if she could help just one more person. She had been told numerous times by her supervisors that such a trait would get her into trouble one day, but that had yet to stop her. A pathetic mewling from the floor brought her face out of the cushion and she glowered down at her pet. The oversized ginger feline with a smooshed face stared up at her with pleading eyes and she growled at him.

"What do you want, cat? Can't you see I'm tired?"

He cried again before padding over to the window that stood above a small table, leaping upon it and scratching at the glass. She merely stared before groaning and pushing herself into a sitting position. She swung her feet onto the carpet, ignoring the patches of cream that held the faintest traces of a stain. She padded to the window and threw it open, a particularly irate owl swooping in. Crookshanks let out a happy meow and leapt off the table at the bird, catching a few of its tail feathers on his descent back to the ground. The owl squawked and Hermione got a scratch along the length of her arm when she tried to recover the letter it held in its mouth, its orange eyes glaring at her accusingly. There was no seal on the paper and she quickly unfolded it, a gasp escaping her upon reading its contents.

_Hermione; _

_Upon finding out that I was leaving, I decided to write you. I've been given an assignment with Harry, though I can't tell you where because that is some seriously classified information and I could loose my job if I let anything leak. Anyway, we will be gone fore at least a month. I know how much you'll miss me. I'm sure I can trust you while I'm gone, right? I won't be disappointed when I return, will I? You'll be a good girl. Because, remember, I know about everything you do. You are mind and I will not tolerate anybody else touching you. If I hear, even from the secret place I am going, anything about doing something you know you shouldn't, I'll be back faster than one of Snape's poisons could work on you. Understand me? We go through this every time I go, but you never seem to get the message. Let's hope this time will be different, I wouldn't want to bruise your pretty face the moment we see each other again. That'd be sad, wouldn't it? Anyway, I don't have much time before I have to report back to Headquarters, so I'll end this. If you try anything, what I do to you will be unlike anything I've done before. You'll be lucky if you can move a week later. _

_Love, _

_Ron _

A shudder ran through at his words and she dropped the parchment onto the table. He talked about seriously hurting her and ended his message with an endearment. He utterly terrified her and then told her that he loved her. Sometimes she could believe him, but when she got a glance at the twisted madness in his eyes as he hurt her, she knew that the Ron she could have loved with every bit of her had been smothered by the darkness clouding his soul.

She nervously rubbed her hands together and snatched the letter up from where she had discarded it. She quickly shoved it in the drawer that held the rest of their correspondence and a few magical pictures she had taken of herself the first time he had beaten her for when she prosecuted him for his deeds. She absently reminded herself that she needed to clear those out and burn them, for she knew that she could never win against him, nor did she have enough courage to make her abusive relationship public.

She pushed the drawer shut with her hip and suddenly remembered something. She rushed in her bedroom and after several minutes of frantic searching, found the object of her minor quest. As a bonus for working so hard, she had been given two complementary tickets to go see the Quidditch World Cup. She had not wanted to give the other ticket to Ron and now that he was gone, she was free to find someone else to accompany her. The first person who sprung to mind was Viktor, but the more sensitive part of her quietly chided her with the knowledge that he would playing in the game and it would be rather difficult from him to be in two places at once unless he had a time turner.

She reverently set the two stiff pieces of paper on her bedside table. A strange defiance had been growing within her the past few days, a need to disobey the harsh rules her boyfriend forced her to obey. She would go to the Cup and she would enjoy herself while he worked. She deserved a little break from the constant fear. She let out a soft sigh, before a slight smile brightened her face. She would visit Viktor and tell him of her plans. He would be pleased that she would be there watching him, cheering for him, worried for him.

A sensation of warmth spread through her soul as she saw his face in her mind, that emotion from earlier in the hospital room returning in a heartbeat. For once, Hermione Granger the Know-It-All of the Golden Trio did not have an immediate answer, even to a question she asked herself. Her rump connected sharply with the smooth sheets of her bed, her mouth set in a firm line. She viewed life as one enigma after another and this feeling in her heart was just another puzzle that she would solve. But whatever it was, she knew it was the key to her future.

* * *

_Thanks for all the reviews, they make me so happy! Fiftieth review will be proclaimed with the update of the next chapter. As will the sixtieth if we make it that far. Please, everybody tell me what you think… _

_Blessed Be _

_Ame _


	5. Protect Me

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: So sorry about the wait, I've had some minor writer's block…Not to mention I just got the game Dark Watch and I've been playing it constantly. Congratulations to Mind Shadow for being the seventieth reviewer and Forsaken for being the sixtieth and mysticallove for being the fiftieth. Thanks for all the reviews, they were marvelous! And, the cat is out of the bag this chapter! Sorta…

* * *

Breaking the Habit

Chapter Five – Protect Me

It had been nearly a week since the attack on the Bulgarian quidditch team and all of the players, with the exception of Viktor, were already released. Hermione smiled to herself as she quietly walked into the private room the foreign celebrity resided within, the slight form of a healer welcomed through the ranks of simpering fan girls congregated outside. She had something none of those mindless creatures did, Viktor's friendship.

She blew a loose curl out of her face, it one of the multiple strands that had freed itself from the loose bun at the base of her skull. She fingered the hilt of her wand before looking up from the ground. Viktor sat in the chair by the only window, dressed in nothing more than a pair of dark pajama pants and a white undershirt that clung to his toned chest. She froze, her eyes widening and her mouth going surprisingly dry as she stared. His gaze drifted away from the glass and when he saw her, his entire face lit up from within. She returned the smile with amazing ease, before walking to him and leaning against the pane.

"Feeling better?"

He groaned. "I have been better for days. Do you know vhen I vill be released?"

"Then I come bearing good news, that day is today."

He grinned widely in relief and in the space of a heartbeat, leapt to his feet. He grabbed her tightly around the waist and swung her around him. A childish squeal escaped form her mouth as her surroundings blurred and the only solid thing was Viktor's joyous face. The emotion that had been bubbling away inside of her since she saw exploded into over drive as if suddenly grew. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and when her feet touched the ground, she was staring with a muddled expression in her eyes.

"Vhat is it? I thought you vould be happy…"

She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat, suddenly fearing what she could be feeling. "Oh, I am quite happy. If you hadn't been released today, you would have had a chance to play in the World Cup…" She roughly pushed those emotions to the back of her mind, knowing they would be mulled over at a later time.

His brow wrinkled slightly at his words, his arms never releasing her from their hold. "Since vhen have you liked Quidditch?" He thought of something. "Do you have tickets?"

She nodded. "I do, they were complementary." A definite blush flushed her face a light crimson. "I don't like it per say, it is more the people who do the playing."

Even the thickest creature alive would get her meaning and he squeezed her against him in a warm hug. She unconsciously returned the gesture, briefly pressing her face into his chest before pulling away. His fingers laced with hers and if any stranger stumbled in upon the scene, they would have seemed like lovers.

"You are going just to see me?" He needed clarification.

He had waited so long for her to show even a minute amount of interest in him. He refused to misinterpret something she said and loose her friendship. He would rather take platonic affection than be bereft of her presence. She made an affirmative noise in the back of her throat, the colour on her cheeks darkening considerably in her modest embarrassment. He freed one of his hands from hers and brushed an errant lock behind her ear.

Her breathing grew shallow at his touch and those suddenly expressive cinnamon eyes of hers grew wide as she looked up at him. Trust gleamed in those depths, blind faith in the man she knew would always be there to protect and care for her. It overshadowed the fierce tenderness that gave life to the dull brown her eyes once had been, making them shine with an inner light. His grip tightened on her and he drew her small body close against his muscular frame, a sweet sigh slipping from her as she suddenly felt safe.

Ever since she had begun to explore romantic relationships, she soon wished for the time when men mean that she was protected. Their heads instinctively began to gravitate towards each other, the space between them rapidly closing. A sharp knock at the door shook them from the cocoon woven about them and she leapt out of his grasp, her heart beating wildly. Without pausing to think about her actions, she pushed him into the chair he had recently vacated and ripped her wand from her robes. Viktor's coach, Erik Dyre, entered the room. The image they presented must have been convincing for he simply looked to her before speaking.

"I haff come for him."

She forced a weak smile onto her face. "Ah, yes. He may leave now, though it is advised that he takes the rest of the day off from practicing. If he injures himself so soon after being healed, the damage he could wreak upon himself could be fatal."

The older man nodded and soon he and Viktor were steps away from exiting the room. Viktor threw a glance over his shoulder at her just before the door closed behind them, mouthing that he would be visiting her soon. She nervously rubbed her hands together, her wand finding its way back into her pocket. She had almost kissed Viktor, the very thought shook her to the core. She nearly showed affection to a man who was not Ron, if her boyfriend ever found out he would kill her without a thought. Yet, whenever she saw Viktor's face she could not help but through all caution to the wind. Something about him made her feel so precious and safe, she would not give that up for the world, no matter what Ron did to her.

* * *

Late that night, Hermione was roughly awoken from her sleep by someone banging on her door. She lurched into a sitting position, her sheets pooling around her waist. She sucked in a deep breath, her sleep tousled hair flying around her head in a soft cloud. She fell out of her bed in her haste to get to the door and upon throwing it open, she very nearly screeched in frustration.

"Viktor!" She yelped. "What are you doing here? It's almost one o'clock in the morning!"

His gold cheeks flushed. "I-I'm sorry…I sad I vould see you soon."

"I thought you meant tomorrow, not late at night. I don't know what time you have to get up, being a star Quidditch player, but I have to be at St. Mungo's in less than six hours."

His shoulders drooped and he looked down at her with sad eyes. "You vant me to go, then?"

She sighed and rubbed a hand across her face. "No…I am sorry for being rude. The past few days have been rather tense." She did not mention that the reason she had been so worried was his state of health. "Please, come in."

He followed her in and when he glanced at her again, he blushed further and tried to avoid her general body. She was about to ask him what the matter was, when she realized what she was wearing. She squeaked and darted back into her bedroom. All that covered her was a close fitting tank top that did little to hide her cleavage and a pair of tiny shorts that could pass more as knickers than anything else. She had been so frantic to get to the door she had forgotten to cover herself. She snatched her robe up and wrapped it around herself. When she emerged from her bedroom, her cheeks were flushed. She smiled nervously up to Viktor, fidgeting with her belt.

"Can get you something to drink?"

He shook his head and took a half step towards her, almost as if he was unsure of what he wanted to do. She smiled warmly up to him, her caramel hued eyes shining with a surprising amount of trust. Nothing he could do to her would upset her, how could it? He was the only person she had encountered in her life who had never once tried to harm he. He had always protected and cared for her. One of his hands came up and gently touched cheek.

She unconsciously leaned into his touch, her lids fluttering shut at the contact. She felt the warmth of his body get closer and she shifted closer. Her eyes opened as she looked up at him, her palms resting lightly on his chest. Time seemed to slow as his face drew nearer to hers. She tilted her head backwards and for the briefest of moments, their lips touched. A rush of that wonderfully indescribable emotion soared through her and she instantly became addicted. Her hand slid up to his neck and pulled him back down.

Their mouths were crushed together and when his tongue ran along the seam of her lips, she made a soft noise in the back of her throat. He suddenly held her tightly around the waist with one arm, pressing her slender frame against his larger one. His other hand slipped up and lightly fisted in the hair at the base of her skull, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss. Hermione responded instinctively and parted her lips at his insistence, her own tongue rising up from the bottom of her mouth to rub against his. Liquid lust flooded her veins at that first touch and that sudden wave cleared her head. She jerked away from him, her lips swollen from their snogging, a slightly frightened expression on her face.

"V-Viktor, you have to go! We can't do this!"

His brow furrowed at her words and simply grasped her firmly by the wrists when she tried to push him away. "Vhy? Just a minute ago it did not seem like you vished for me to go."

"I let my feelings get the better of me."

"So you feel something for me?"

She stared at him, her mouth opened slightly. "That's not the point! We just can't do this, so please go!"

"No!" The vehemence in his voice caused her to stop speaking and merely stare at him. "You deserve better than that veasel! Don't think I haven't seen the scars on your arms, I know how a person gets them. Vhy vould a girl like you have them if she did not get them from her Auror 'boyfriend'? Do not lie to me; he beats you, doesn't he?"

Those expressive eyes of her displayed her conflicting emotions and she wrenched her self free of his grip. "I really don't want to talk about it…" All of that previous fire was gone and in its wake it left a terrified, broken soul crying for relief. "He doesn't mean to hurt me." The last was uttered beneath her breath as she spewed forth the lies that had been pounded into her.

Viktor let out a wordless roar, hearing her mutterings clearly enough. She instinctively cowered away from his fury, stepping backwards towards the sofa. So many horrors had taken place in that living room and while she trusted him implicitly, that faith could not erase the violence in her life. When he saw her reaction he immediately quieted down and crouched before her now sitting form. He gently took her small hands in his and looked up at her with a deeply sad expression on his countenance.

"I am sorry for not being here to protect you from him, Hermione. I promise you that he vill never come near you again."

Terror sucked what the little remaining colour from her cheeks. "He'll kill me." She whispered. "He'll find a way and kill me, just like he promised."

He swore beneath his breath before kissing the back of her hand, as if to show the sincerity of his words. "Vell, hear my promise then. I promise you that I vill keep you safe. You vill get justice and he vill be punished for vhat he has done. Nobody hurts my girl vithout paying the consequences."

His words broke through some of the ice quickly growing around her and she responded slightly to his affectionate gestures. She gripped his fingers tightly, the cool metal of his only ring comforting.

"You'll protect me?"

"Yes."

That simple word caused her to throw herself on him and wrap her arms tightly about his neck. She buried her face in his chest and let out a shaky breath, straddling his lap. His hands rested against the small of her back as he hugged her, surprised at her reaction. He had not thought that she would reply in such a way, though he would not say that he was sorry. He was far from it. He had waited seven long years for Hermione to show true romantic feelings to him and while what she experienced could be induced by her need to be saved, at that moment he could not care. She was in his arms and he would shelter her until the day he died.

* * *

Reviews make the world go round!

Blessed Be

Ame


	6. Heaven at the World Cup

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Oh my Gods, over _forty_ reviews! Thank you all for reviewed, that was amazing! This chapter has the Quidditch World Cup, please excuse me for not doing an in depth coverage over it, but the actual game has little do with the story. It's more the emotions tied in with it, I hope you like it.

* * *

Breaking the Habit

Chapter Six – Heaven at the World Cup

Blankets softer than anything she could recall feeling kept her fragile body warm as Hermione slowly roused herself from slumber. Her fingers were curled against her cheek as her eyes opened and she yawned softly, the feeling of contentment something she could not comprehend. Her russet hued curls fluffed around her head in a delicate aura and she let out a yelp when she realized the bed she lay in was not hers. The man unconscious on the sofa on the other side of the room lurched into a sitting position, looking about blurrily. When he saw her, he very nearly fell over himself in his haste to get to her side. Upon recognizing him, she smiled shyly up to him and pulled the blankets up closer around her chest.

"Viktor…Why am I in your house?"

He reached out and gently stroked her hair. "You cried yourself to sleep last night and I couldn't leave you in that place. I took you back with me. I svear I didn't touch you!"

She laughed quietly, amazing at how comfortable she felt around him. "I know you wouldn't. Don't worry, I trust you."

A blush flushed his dark skin and he leapt up from the side of the mattress. He rubbed the back of his neck with a calloused hand before looking around.

He motioned towards the bags scattered on the floor, all of them closed. "I packed your clothes." It was clear by the darkening of that colour that he had brought everything he could find.

"Thank you." She murmured.

"I vill leave you. The bathroom is through that door and my house elf, Miff, vill help you if you need it. I haff to go to practice." He leaned down and brushed his mouth against her forehead.

She watched him walk briskly from the room before she swung her legs out from beneath the heavy duvet. She plucked her robe up from a nearby chair and wrapped it tightly about herself. She felt so out of place amongst the extravagance that seemed to be apart of a Quidditch player's every day life. A soft noise escaped her as those hated feelings of unimportance welled up inside of her. She wrapped her arms around her torso and knelt before one of the more tattered suitcases.

Upon opening it, she quickly found a simply pair of dark jeans and a soft sweater. She bundled the clothes and some fresh undergarments beneath her arm and walked briskly into the bathroom. It was more lavish than even the Head Girl's bathroom back at Hogwarts. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes and she dropped her armload on the smooth white marble floor. She sunk to her knees, the cold stone sucking the heat from her flesh, and buried her face in her palms. She knew Viktor cared about her, but Ron's words echoed in her head. Nobody wanted damaged goods like her.

Who would? She had been used more times than she cared to remember and someone like Viktor deserved someone sweet and pure, someone whose past was not tainted with darkness like hers was. Salty wetness dripped through the cracks between her fingers and splattered onto the floor as she sobbed quietly, feeling terribly out of place amongst such expense. She truly was worthless and deserved no better than the treatment Ron gave her. Her voice rose in a wail as she voiced her deep unhappiness in the only way her currently one track mind could devise. She never heard a soft pop and did not realize someone entered the room with her until a little hand touched one of her shaking arms.

"Miss shouldn't cry…The Master hates it when you cry."

She drew her blotchy head out of her hands and stared down into the yellow, bulbous hues of a house elf. She sniffled pathetically and wiped her cheeks roughly.

"Are you Miff?" She whispered hoarsely.

"Yes Miss." The remotely female creature squeaked.

"How do you know that about Viktor?"

"Master gets angry after Master finds things out about the Miss. Master said it was because the Miss cries. Why does Miss cry, especially when the Master looks at her like he does?"

Hermione's tragic expression remained just as hopeless. "No matter how Viktor looks at me, I'm still worthless. Why would somebody as wonderful as him want to dirty himself with someone like me? I've been broken more times than I can count; he deserves someone untouched by violence."

"Who would tell Miss something as horrible as that?"

"My boyfriend."

"Then Miss should not listen to the Miss's boyfriend."

"But what he says is true. He's the only person who will always be there for me."

"Where was Miss's Weasel when Miss needed company and got cursed? Wasn't the Master the one who always came for the Miss?"

She sighed sadly, her chocolate hues miserable. "Ron was the one doing the cursing."

The house elf gently patted her bicep, a surprisingly motherly expression on its little face. "Miff will leave the Miss now. If Miss needs anything, call for Miff and Miff will come." It snapped its fingers and it disappeared in a small pop of displaced air.

Hermione blinked slowly as she stared at the spot where Miff had been. Before she dissolved back into confused tears, the thought that perhaps Ron was actually the wrong, messed up, and unwanted one.

* * *

Hermione dragged a hairbrush through her magically dried curls, glad that she had used the potion waiting in the shower for her. It had taken much of the frizz from her hair and let it fall in loose waves down her back. She set the brush down with a clank and turned around. It was hard to hide from a woman looking into a mirror. Her gaze drifted up to Viktor's face, an uncertain smile on his lips. She stayed where she was and tried to keep the emotions from earlier in the bathroom to shine in her eyes.

Somehow, time had flown by and the day of the Quidditch World Cup arrived. She had not left his house since he brought here there in the dead of night, loathe to leave the safety it offered. He, several times, attempted to convince her to sit in the Owner's Box along with the rest of the player's significant others, but she had declined each time. She was unsure of how she felt as being referred to as a 'significant other', though a little thrill of delight went through her each time she heard it.

"You are ready?" He offered his hand to her.

She nodded and slipped her fingers into his offered palm, a wave of acceptance washing over her at his touch. Despite her treacherous thoughts, she could not deny the way she felt about this tall Bulgarian.

"Yes."

They strolled through his house until they reached the back garden, the rich aroma of blossoming flowers momentarily calming the racing of her heart. Her eyes fluttered closed as she filled her lungs with the soothing smell and when she opened them, a gentle flush coloured her face. Viktor watched her with a deep affection shining in her eyes, it far stronger than any of the weak feeling Ron has shown for her. That blessed warmth beat away her uncertainty and for a brief second the proud, brave, self confident girl that had been beaten out of her returned.

When he looked at her like that, the horrors of her past melted away and she felt precious. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, her arms slipping around his neck. She heard him quietly whisper the spell for apparation and closed her hues quickly, the blurring of colour always nauseating. When she opened them, they were in a small room that clearly had been set up to receive apparating visitors. She drew out of his hold and brushed imaginary pieces of lint from the front of her casual, muggle clothing.

"You haff your tickets?"

She nodded. "They are in my back pocket. And…" She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. "I do remember where we are meeting afterwards, I have not forgotten so please don't worry. I also know that if I find myself in any sort of trouble I simply have to scream to the security wizard you had posted extremely close to my seat." She smiled tenderly, before taking several steps towards the exit. "Good luck, Viktor."

"Don't I get something for good luck?"

She laughed nervously and moved closer to him. He gently took her hands in his and she sweetly pressed her mouth against his, chastely kissing him. She felt him shift nearer to her and when the delicious heat of him washed over her, she melted against his chest. No matter what happened in her past, his simple touch could make her forget everything. His velvety tongue brushed against her lower lip and her mouth opened enough for it to be admitted. A soft noise that could only be described as a purr rose up in her as their tongues tangled and he ravenously swallowed the sound, dragging her closer still. Her arms snaked around his neck as her body fit like the perfect glove to his, a delighted shiver running down her spine. When one of his hands began to slip beneath the soft fabric of her t-shirt, she pulled away from him with a slightly bashful expression on her face.

"Good luck." She whispered again, though she was not quite sure he heard her.

His glance seemed fixated on her kiss swollen lips and the colour that had risen in her cheeks. He shook his head quickly, as if to rid himself momentarily of some thought, before smiling lovingly down upon her visage.

"I vill vin the Vorld Cup because of that."

Her sweet laughter rang throughout the room as she hugged him tightly, unable to help herself. Around Viktor, she felt so accepted and free. It was like the past year and a half had never happened. Ron never brought his hand up against her; he had never ruined the memories of the time of her life that was supposed to be the best. He buried his face in the fragrant cloud of her hair before she stepped out of his embrace.

"You should go. I'll see you after the game, okay?"

He nodded and they walked with their fingers tangled together. Upon stepping out of the door, he squeezed her hand before they parted and went their own separate ways. Hermione drifted through the sudden crowds, lost in a haze of delight. She let the mindless group carry her towards the stairs leading to some of the higher seats. A security wizard asked for her ticket and she absently brandished the stiff piece of paper. She moved on after he grunted her in, drifting happily up towards her seat.

She slipped the paper into her pocket before she slipped into her chair, a smile unseen for years lighting up her face. She suddenly felt alive. No longer did the yelling of the countless thousands in the stadium irritate her, but helped her spirit fly. She brushed a finger against her still moderately swollen lower lip and another of those delicious trembles went through her. The very idea that Viktor could feel strongly for her was enough to boost her courage to disobey Ronald. She clasped her hands loosely in her lap as she bit back a girlish, purely feminine giggle of delight.

How could she deny the utter contentment welling up from the very base of her soul when she even thought about the Bulgarian who touched her cheek and looked at her so tenderly? A booming voice jerked her from her musings and she realized with a clench of her heart, that the game was due to start. Instant worry for her precious Bulgarian choked her and, despite her joy, nausea settled in the pit of her stomach.

The announcer belted out the names of the Italian team, she did not pay attention to them in her anxiousness to see Viktor fly across the field. The Italian's mascots, several crooning sirens drifting about their side of the stadium, slowly ceased their enchanting singing as the crowds fell almost silent as the man speaking to all present cleared his throat expectantly. She held her breath in expectation, waiting for a single name to be called.

"…and their Seeker, KRUM!" She rose to her feet like much of those present, screaming her lungs out.

She heard several girls behind her whisper how attractive the Bulgarian Seeker was, especially when he was pulled up on the large magical screen. Sudden, fierce jealousy whipped up inside of her and she bit back the urge to whip around to growl to the girls that Viktor was _hers_. Her own emotions surprised her and she pressed a hand against her chest, trying to calm that raging torrent. She rapidly forgot about it as she lost herself in the fast paced action of the match, watching in a breathless mix of nerves and excitement.

At one point, he dived sharply towards the earth and plummeted as if he had lost the ability to fly. A true wail of horror erupted from her mouth, the high pitch tone seeming to rise above the gasps of the spectators. Almost as if he heard her, Viktor's head momentarily shot up and his dark eyes searched the faceless masses for someone, before pulling out of the fall. Her pulse did not drop down from a dangerously high rate for some time after that particular terror.

The game was over before it barely started, or so it seemed. Viktor caught sight of a glint of gold and he shot off in the direction of that illusive ball. The Italian Seeker was hot on his tail, though he stopped following when he caught sight of the two dangerous leather Bludgers speeding perpendicular to each other. Viktor, too absorbed in winning, did not see them until they were almost upon him. He apparently lost all ability of rational thought for he flung his broom into overdrive and increased his speed.

People rose to their feet, hollering for the world famous Seeker. Hermione's world narrowed down to a tiny point, the cone centered on the small figure zooming towards something nobody else could see. Just when it seemed like he would be crushed between the two furious balls, he soared upwards, holding his fist victoriously in the air. A bubble of unbelievable elation consumed her and she let out a pleased screech. The noise trailed off when one of the security wizards lightly tapped her shoulder.

"Miss, you are to come with me."

"Why?"

A glint of laughter shone in his eyes. "Your boyfriend asks it. He is the one who made sure you were as close as possible to someone in security."

"Oh…" She shook her head, unable to hid the affection gleaming on her lips. "Lead the way then."

He led her through a secret exit, one reserved for employees and volunteers, the ringing cheer of the crowd following them. "KRUM! KRUM! KRUM!"

The security wizard left her in an empty room that looked remotely like the Gryffindor Common Room, though only in the general layout of the furniture. She stood nervously fidgeting with the hem of the shirt, tugging on a loose thread. The yelling from above had hardly died away when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled tightly against a man's chest. The soft smell of soap mixed with a musk she would recognize anyway. She twisted around in Viktor's arms, deep delight sparkling on her face. Instead of kissing him like he so clearly expected, her hand flew up and connected sharply with his cheek. He looked surprised, especially when he saw her suddenly furious expression.

"You almost got yourself killed! I almost had a heart attack!" He seemed ready to apologize, but was abruptly silenced when she smashed her mouth against his.

She could never be truly angry with him and he knew through the fervent desperation in their kiss that she had merely been worried out of her mind. He held her close against him, reveling in the feel of her lithe form pressed against his. It truly was heaven when she was in his arms.

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Mhh…The longest one so far, so please tell me what you think!

Blessed Be

Ame


	7. Glass Wings

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Author Note: I apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter out, life has been threatening and I had to deal with it. I also contracted a terrible case of writer's block that made me shudder whenever I though about finishing off this chapter. Anyway, this chapter is pure fluff. If you are diabetic, make sure you take a good deal of insulin before reading this. The sweet sappyness of it all might make your blood sugar soar. Anyway, the present was inspired by a picture I saw on DeviantArt earlier today and it made me get my arse in gear and finish this chapter. It's of average length and be prepared, the plot will be reemerging when I can actually get around to figuring out where this story is going to go. So, enjoy the fluff. _

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Breaking the Habit

Chapter Seven – Glass Wings

The rest of the night after the World Cup was one large blur, Hermione blamed it on the alcohol she could not help but consume. And so, the disorientation she felt upon waking up made sense. She buried her face deeper into her pillow, a familiar scent permeating the soft cotton. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat and went to stretch, but realized that there was a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Her eyes snapped open in surprise and she began to jerk away when the man tightened his grip.

A soft groan came from behind her and a face buried in her hair. Muffled words in a much loved accent met her ears and she instinctively melted back into Viktor's chest. She had no idea why they were sharing a bed, but she was still clothed so she had nothing immediate to worry about. The comforting warmth coming from his body made her feel so sleepy. She rolled over in his hold to press her face into his neck, but found that the sudden nearness of her skin brought to mind a whole other arena of things she wished to do to him.

A delicate flush spread across her cheeks and neck at those indecent thoughts, though they did create a certain ache in her groin. She swallowed and lightly brushed her mouth against his skin, before rapidly pressing her lips harder against the faint fluttering of his pulse. He groaned once more at her touch and one of her hands slipped up to rest at his shoulder. She began to nip gently at his flesh, unable to help herself.

There was something amazingly addicting about the subtle taste of his skin, something that she knew one a basic level she would never grow tired of. Her other hand rested against one of the defined muscles of his chest, bare flesh against naked skin. She felt Viktor shift next to her and something decidedly hard began to press against her thigh. Hermione was not as naïve as she had been back at school and knew full well what and come to life in her boyfriend.

She froze for an instant as that thought passed across her mind. Did she honestly refer to Viktor as her boyfriend? Ron was the only one who had ever held that title, yet it did not seem fitting to call him that any longer. The way Viktor treated her whispered to her of the ways that a man was supposed to treat the woman he cared for and she found that she far preferred Viktor to Ronald. She pulled away enough to look up into her _boyfriend's_ dark eyes, smiling shyly to him.

"Morning, Viktor." She murmured.

He ran his fingers through her tousled hair, rubbing his calloused digits against the soft strands. "Good morning, Hermione." A deep, rumbling laughter rose out of his chest as he brought his mouth down hear to her ear, close enough where his hot breath caressed the sensitive skin of her neck. "And vhat are you doing in my bed?"

She laughed quietly and snuggled up against him, their legs tangled intimately. "To be honest, I have no idea." She nuzzled up against him.

His hand tenderly tugged her head up and their lips met, a wave of warmth washing through her at the touch. It did not take long for the seemingly chaste kiss to escalate into something deeply passionate. With one hand fisted in her hair, he rolled her onto her back and drove his tongue into her mouth. Her own tongue rose up from the bottom of her mouth to twine hungrily with his and her arms rose to wind about his neck.

He gently pressed her down into the mattress using nothing but the weight of his body; their forms flush against the other. She groaned quietly into his mouth as his other hand ran up her side, slipping beneath the soft fabric of her tank top. The tips of his probing fingers felt the edge of her bra and in a fluid movement quite unlike the Hermione of Hogwarts, she pushed him away just enough for her to be able to pull the offending pajama top over her head.

She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears and her breathing had grown shallow from the insistent kisses they had shared. Ronald never made her feel this way, never made her blood boil and loose all rational thought. She smirked at him and let out a happy cry as he bore down on her, attacking her mouth with his. Liquid heat flooded through her veins at his touch and she reared up against him, the delicate curves of her body cupping the masculine planes of his. His lips broke away from hers and he began to trail lingering kisses down across her jaw line, lightly nipping at the soft flesh he found.

She closed her eyes and angled her head away from him to allow better access. He began to suck the sensitive skin beneath her ear, his heavy breathing sending shivers through her body. She groaned quietly and pressed her hands against his shoulders, amazed at the feel of his rough hands rubbing against her back. When his fingers began to toy with the clasp to her bra, his mouth drifting down her chest, the thick haze that descended down upon her lifted for a moment. She let out a soft gasp and at that noise; Viktor drew away and gazed up at her in concern. His dark eyes were hazy with lust, his lips swollen from their earlier kissing.

"Vhat is it?" He asked quietly, anxiety written all across his attractive features.

She smiled to him tenderly and pressed her mouth gently against his cheek. "We're…We're just moving a little too fast. Too much has happened that has to do with my body in the past couple months and it is going to take me a while to become comfortable with myself again."

He rolled onto his side so he could look down at her, his head resting in his opened palm. "Take as long as you need, I vill alvays be here for you."

The passion had begun to ebb from her bloodstream and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Could he know how much those words meant to here? She realized then she was laying next to him in nothing more than a bra and her knickers. A blush rushed across her cheeks and she pulled the sheet up around her chest, embarrassment colouring her face. He let out a rich chuckle and brushed some of her hair out of her face. He rose from the bed, wearing little more than a pair of dark burgundy pajama. He pulled on a house rob that lay against a chair, before turning and looking back at her.

"I vill leave you to get dressed. I haff something planned for today."

She nodded and waited until he had exited the room, before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She rose to her feet and dragged her fingers through her hair, pressing them against her swollen lips. A shiver of joy ran through her as she laughed softly to herself as she poked her head out the door Viktor had recently opened, before running quickly to her room.

* * *

Hermione pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her thick hair pulled out of her face with a strong barrette. She walked down into the kitchen and looked up at Viktor from beneath her lashes. He grinned to her and motioned for her to take a seat. She did so and crossed her legs, resting her clasped hands on the table. He had at some point put his clothes on, for he wore a pair of loose jeans and a snug shirt that revealed the toned muscles he rarely kept hidden.

"So…What are we doing today?" She could not help but shake a sense of foreboding, like something life threatening was about to occur.

At some point during her stay with Viktor, they had come to the unspoken decision that Hermione would not be going back to her apartment, the place that held so many horrible memories for her. There was only one place they could see her staying and that was with him, where she was safe and wanted. He smiled down to her and she rose to her feet. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Ve are going to go move your things from your old flat to here, not to mention get that ginger hairball you call a cat." He did not mention that he had a gift for her, for that would come later.

Her face flooded with happiness and she flung her arms around his neck, nuzzling against him. "Oh Viktor, I thought you hated cats!"

"I can make an exception for you."

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate…"

She trailed off at the affectionate look on his face, a delicate flush spreading across her cheeks. He wrapped one of his arms around his waist, his hand resting possessively against her hip. He guided her towards the fireplace and they soon disappeared in a rush of emerald hued flames. They stepped out onto the hearth of Hermione's living room and she let out a quiet sigh as she looked about the space. A shiver gripped the base of her spine as images flooded her mind and she leaned into Viktor's embrace, drawing comfort.

"It's amazing, I'm gone for a week and already the small amount of homey feelings I could garner from this place utterly disappear. They only thing I feel is deep disgust, at myself for the most part, and this deep sadness." She let out a sigh before calling out the name of her cat, pushing those memories away.

The oversized tabby bounded into the room, not looking in the slightest bit miffed that he had been on his own for seven days. She pulled out of her boyfriend's grasp and scooped the animal up, cuddling him against her chest. She spent several minutes cooing quietly to the feline, stroking his smooshed head and transmitting her love for him physically. When he began to protest at being held, she gently set him down on his paws. She looked up at Viktor from her crouched position, resting her hands on his knees. He brushed his fingers against her cheek before helping her up, not letting go of her.

"Vhat should ve move first?"

She shrugged. "I don't want anything from here except my cat and a few pictures. Everything else we can leave, it means nothing to me."

He nodded and she quietly told him to wait in the living room, for packing what few things she would take with her would be an emotional experience for her that she did not want anyone else to witness. In a sense, she was destroying and abandoning a part of her life she wished never happened. By never returning to her filthy, decrepit apartment she felt as if Ronald's touch was erased from her, being replaced by the far better presence of Viktor Krum.

She sunk down onto her bed, resting her head in her trembling hands. The tainted horrors that clung to her bedroom began to rise up and surround her, forcing tears into the corners of her eyes. This would be harder than she had expected, she had forgotten how well she wallowed in misery and self pity. A miserable sniffle escaped from her as she wiped at her cheeks, trying to force the constant stream of burning tears off of her cheeks. Her sobs got louder than expected, for she found herself pulled against a warm chest.

Her hands tangled around his neck as she emptied her pain into the accepting form of the Bulgarian, he taking her suffering and transforming it into something different, something beautiful. After some time, she drew away and glanced at him with red rimmed eyes. He tenderly cupped her face in his palm and she leaned into the caress, knowing she would never grow tired of being treated as something precious, something to be kept safe. Another smile spread across his face as he reached his pocket for something.

"I vanted to give this to you later, but it seems like a perfect time." He set a small package down onto his lap and brought his wand out with the same hand, lightly touching the top of the paper wrapped object.

The brown covering fell open and a small figure unfolded from its prison. It rose onto its feet and stretched, tiny fingers reaching towards the heaven. Hermione let out a little gasp at the small figure that began to dance in graceful sweeping motions, lithe limbs swaying to music only the glass dancer could hear. She gingerly ran a finger down the doll's length, amazed at the cool glass. The miniature ballerina twisted herself and the peculiar shining substance on her back unfolded. That hand flew up and pressed against her mouth as the dancer morphed into a delicate angel, complete with wings. This dancing creature sparkled in the dull electric lights, shining in its fragile beauty. She let her eyes drift up to Viktor's face, wonder on her features.

"Viktor…It's so beautiful."

He tucked an unruly curl behind her ear, touching her affectionately. "She reminds me of you."

"I don't have wings."

He shook his head, insistent that he make this point. "True, but you are like her none the less. She has a sort of grace about her that I have only seen permeate one other person. You are the only creature that truly captivates, makes me feel like a good person vhen I am around you. Vithout, I am just another egotistical Quidditch star that needs to be taken down a couple notches." He leaned across the small space separating them, connecting their lips in a tender kiss.

She immediately melted against him, the glass dancer pirouetting out of the dwindling area between their bodies to elegantly twirl about on the bedspread. His hand tangled in the hair at the base of her neck as their tongues tangled, soft noises rising from her throat. As she expressed her thanks for him and he doing the same for her, she realized that she had never felt happier in her entire life. When she was with Viktor, her cares melted away and she could e true to the person she had always squelched down, killed so she could be more accepted by the people she thought she had to impress. With Viktor, she never felt like pretending. She could be herself, be her fragile, needy, expressive self that the gently swaying glass girl so easily portrayed.

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_Review my darlings, feed the hungry beast that is this writer!_

_Blessed Be_

_Ame_


	8. Cause and Effect

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Author Note: Again, I am sorry about the wait but real life is hectic. Be glad though, for this is the longest chapter so far. Over three thousand words, fwee. Anyway, in response to a question from one of you about the lemons that might or might not be appearing in this story. As of right now, there are some planned but they will be far later. I'm sorry if this is upsetting, but some of the best stories I've read have had enough plot behind the smut to make it relevant and pivotal to the story, instead of useless fluff. Enjoy the chapter. Oh, and as for the title to this chapter, I hope some of you will realize why it is so. It is not difficult, but still, tell me why you think I named this chapter this in your review._

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Breaking the Habit

Chapter Eight – Cause and Effect

They lay entwined on Hermione's bed until they forgot what time was and their troubles melted away, for they grew too caught up in the other to care about the world passing by them. She smiled up to her boyfriend as he absently ran his fingers through her hair, their commingled breaths playing invisibly between them. Her hands rested on his chest and she drew nonsensical designs of his bare skin as she let out a quiet sigh. He made a noise in the back of this throat to bring her attention up to his face. By the expression on his features, no words were needed to get the meaning of his question across. They had done little more than snog and he worried that she was regretting letting herself get tangled in a romantic relationship with him.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I just worry."

"About vhat? You know I von't let anyone touch you."

'I know." She murmured. "It is not for myself that I worry." She looked up at him with those expressive autumn coloured eyes, another sigh escaping her. "I am concerned about you."

He grinned, showing off his perfect teeth that would have made even her parents proud. "Nobody vill be hurting me either, so you haff no need to fret."

She pressed her cheek against his chest, squeezing her eyes closed and resting her palms against his biceps. No matter what he said, she could not shake a deep sense of foreboding that utterly ruined the mood for her. She gave his biceps a light squeeze before untangling herself from his grasp. He threw her a glance as she pulled her discarded shirt over her head and began to search for her shoes.

"Vhat are you doing?"

"This is going to make me sound rather crazy, but I feel like we need to get out of here. I hate this place and the memories associated with it, excluding the ones we just made. We can continue back at home, just not here. We have Crookshanks and he is all I need from this hell hole."

Without inquiring about the situation further, he rose and covered himself up. They walked hand in hand out of the bedroom and she let out a breath she did not realize she had been holding when there was no sight of Ronald lingering behind the couch. Viktor scooped up the case designed to transport animals, her spitting cat hissing as his surroundings moved. She motioned for him to go first and he quietly called out his destination, disappearing into a rush of emerald flames.

She cast a final glance about the apartment that had become her own personal hell for the majority of the past year and physically felt herself stepping into the next phase of her life. She was about to take a handful of floo powder and toss it into the fire, when an unopened letter on the coffee table caught her eye. She kept the glittering particles in her hand and picked the parchment up with her free hand. There were only three words written on the paper, but they were enough to make her heart spasm painfully.

'_I see you.'_

She let out a sharp cry and flung the letter away from her, not caring where it landed. She would recognize that handwriting anywhere and searched the room frantically with her eyes for the presence of the redheaded devil who loved to see her in pain. Her entire body began to tremble terrible as rational thought and sheer animal terror flooded through her. Her arms wrapped tightly about her middle as she began to step towards the fire place, towards the mode of transportation that would take her to the one person she knew would protect her.

A peculiar glimmer near the entrance to the kitchen caught her sight and she slowly turned to face it, dread chilling her veins. Something that looked horribly like an invisibility cloak was swept off of a body and a hoarse cry ruptured from her mouth. That part of her Ronald had broken, that instinctively cowered before him began to whimper in horror and at one point, just weeks before, all of her would have fallen to her knees to beg forgiveness. Except this would not happen, for Viktor had begun to show her that she was something special, something to be valued.

She would not give up what she had with her Bulgarian even if it meant she would have to bear the brunt of Ronald's anger, though she did not intend to stick around long enough to see that particular facet of his personality. She backed up against the fireplace and realized with a soft thrill that perhaps he did not know that she still had a fistful of floo powder. It would the thing to save her and before throwing it into the hearth, she made sure to let their gazes connect.

"Get out of my life, Ronald." She said quietly. "I am no longer you plaything to break and hurt. Somebody loves me now; he thinks I'm beautiful and special. That's more than you can say about me. I do not ever want to see you again." While her voice was soft, the new strength she felt kept it audible.

She flung her handful into the flames and whispered her destination in hopes that Ronald would not hear it. The last thing she heard before disappearing in a roar of fire was his incensed yell. She had hardly taken a breath before she found herself sprawled out on the floor of Viktor's bedroom. Without thinking, she scuttled away from the fireplace and pressed her back against the foot of the bed, staring at the hearth with wide eyes. She felt someone kneel beside her and tenderly touch her shoulder, but she paid them no heed. She simply pulled her knees up against her chest and hugged them tightly, her body rocking slightly.

"Hermione…"

She leaned into Viktor's affectionate body, drawing comfort from his presence. "He was there." She muttered, too afraid to close her eyes.

He did not need to ask who and let out a fierce growl, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. "He vill never touch you. I am going to go down to your Ministry and report him."

She let out a little gasp and shook her head, that enough to rip her from her stupor. "No!" She squeaked. "No, please don't. I don't want everyone knowing. Molly would be so disappointed."

"His mother has nothing to do vith this. Her son does not deserve to live."

"Maybe not, but we don't ever have to see him again." She did not want a big confrontation and to be honest, she did not know if she could handle that all encompassing fear again.

She heard him let out a dissatisfied sigh and began to smooth her hair, curling the locks around his calloused fingers. It went unspoken between the two that someday they would have to do something about the problem Ronald created, especially if they wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Instead of poking at the subject further, he simply held her close to him and waited for her shaking to subside. For, what else could a devoted boyfriend do except comfort and protect his girl when she needed it?

* * *

A day had passed since the latest episode with Ronald before Hermione was willing to leave the safety their home presented. When she did let Viktor lead her into the outside world, the question of where all her clothing was came up. She mildly responded that she never had much to wear, just a few shirts and a skirt or two. He had decided right then that his girl would not be seen walking around in a state of semi-poverty.

She let out a snort as she thought about his pigheaded stubbornness in taking her to one of the nicest places he knew of to get her a new wardrobe. She honestly hated when people spent extravagant sums of money on her, it made her feel uncomfortable, like she had to repay them somehow. Despite the number of times he reassured her that what was his was hers, money included, she still felt like he should not waste his money on her.

And so, she found herself standing on a raised platform with a slightly dumpy woman circling her, occasionally pausing to write something down on the clipboard she had clutched against her breast. She fought the urge to bring her arms up to cover herself, for she stood dressed in nothing but her undergarments, but the sharp noise the woman made kept her still. She had no desire to incur the wrath of such a creature that simply exuded ferocity.

The lady finally came to a stand still and let out a satisfied sound. "You may dress yourself. Now, Mr. Krum mentioned to me that you were to get an entire wardrobe. This is correct, yes?"

Hermione nodded slowly as she pulled her clothing on, fighting the urge to blush uncontrollably. By the woman's tone of voice, it was clear she disapproved of whatever was going on between the famous Quidditch star and the best friend of the world wide renowned Boy Who Lived. The woman huffed to herself as she clearly began to plan things out in her mind, staring avidly at Hermione as she created the things that someday would be a reality.

"You will need to come back in next week for a general fitting, just to make sure what I will be making fits you the way it should. Should you have any questions tell Mr. Krum to send us an owl."

Hermione hated the condescending way the shop owner treated her, but swallowed her objections. She did not want to impose upon Viktor, but he seemed to honestly want to buy her clothing and she would not object to his overwhelming hospitality. She simply laced her fingers together before her and exited the backroom where this entire process had taken place. Viktor was there waiting for her in the show room part of the shop and flashed her one of those smiles that made the rest of the world disappear.

She pulled her hands apart and tangled their digits together, still amazed that such a man as he had decided to incorporate her into his life. She leaned her head against his shoulder and was about to ask if they should go get something to eat, when the magical version of pager went off in her pocket. She pulled away from him and fished it out. It took her a moment to comprehend what the code meant, but when it clicked she let out a horrified gasp.

She looked up at Viktor with dismayed eyes, before reaching for her wand. "I have to go. There's been an attack and the hospital is overflowing with victims. They need all healers to report to their stations." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly, enjoying the brief moment before pulling away.

She smiled sadly to him before disaparating away to St. Mungo's. Her feet slammed into the ground and she transfigured her light outer robes into the standard white robes of a medi-witch, sticking her wand into a pocket as she began to pull her out of her face. She strode up towards the ward that she had been assigned to, knowing that it would be the one with the most patients. She was one of the several healers who worked in the 'emergency room' of the hospital and most of the time there was only a smattering of people there, but now it would be overflowing.

She sucked in a deep breath of clean air before stepping into the war zone. She immediately was assailed with the wails of the injured and dying. Those shields that protected her from getting too involved flew up and she stopped being a human, becoming a machine. She surveyed her surroundings, looking around and realized that apart from the healers-in-training, she was the only fully fledged medi-witch there. Snagging the arm of one of the trainees, she spoke to the young man in a hushed voice.

"We need to separate these people. Choose the ones that are the most injured and work on them first, start with the mortally wounded and move down the scale. Tell the others, this is extremely important." He got the message and scuttled off, leaving her.

She steadied herself as she cast a quick gaze at all the people crying out for help and selected the one she felt was the worst of. As she walked over to him, a wearing realization hit her. It was going to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

It was done. It had taken close to six hours to sort through and heal all those injured in the most recent Death Eater attack, but it was finally done. Hermione sunk gratefully down into one of the chair's in the break room, cradling her aching head in her fingers. Testimony to her weariness, she did not spare a thought to the dried blood clinging to her hands. She let out a shaky breath as she felt how low her magic level was; knowing that those last few really drained her of the power that simply kept her going.

Despite the other healers' pleas for her to stop, that she had done enough, she had continued going from victim to victim and doing whatever she could for them. She had witnessed countless souls dying and then she too had saved several from passing away. This was the exact reason she had decided to become a medi-witch while still in school, to save people. Most of the time being a medi-witch was one of the most unsatisfying careers she could have taken because nobody ever thanked the witch who healed them.

It was times like this when she saw that spark of life flare in a person's eyes she knew she had all the thanks she would ever need right there. She wanted nothing more than to go home and sink into her bed, to sleep for the next few days. A quiet groan escaped from her mouth and rapidly changed to a surprised intake of breath when someone's hand descended onto her shoulder. She pulled her face out of her palms and stared up at one of her coworkers.

"Yes?" She asked, her scratchy voice belaying her exhaustion.

"Healer Shawdi wants to talk to you."

She bit back a sigh. Healer Shawdi was the woman who oversaw their ward, their boss so to say. She slowly rose from her chair and stumbled out of the break room. She knew that Shawdi would be waiting in her personal office and silently wished that she had a private place to retreat to when the stress of work got to her. She was glad, however, that the room was nearby and it only took her a few moments to get there. She knocked quietly on the door and when admittance had been granted, stepped inside. The Indian woman motioned for Hermione to take a seat in one of the chairs before her desk and she thankfully dropped her aching body into the welcoming seat.

"You wished to speak with me, Healer?" She asked.

The woman nodded. "I wanted to ask you about your performance today."

Her brow furrowed at the question as worry began to gnaw at the pit of her stomach. "I was not aware that I did anything against protocol. I arrived when my pager went off and was the first on the scene. I worked until each patient was in a bed and healed to the best of our ability. I believed I had done all that was necessary."

A faint smile etched across the older woman's face as she rested her hands on her desk. For a moment all she did was watch Hermione, that warm look making her seem far from foreboding. She then leaned back in her chair, letting her palms fall across her stomach.

"You did far more than what was necessary. Correct me if I am wrong, but you did not stop once while there was someone who needed help, did you?" She waited until Hermione had given a quick shake of her head, before continuing once more. "Even when your fellows paused for a breather, you gave your all to give aid to all those you could. You even started the process of triage when you arrived when the trainees were running around like they had never seen a cut before. A lot of people have their lives because of your foresight and dedication. You have done very well here and your actions today have decided for me."

Hermione looked up at her with questions written all over her face. "Decided what, if you do not mind me asking?"

"While you are still relatively new here, you have more than proved to be an invaluable commodity to the staff. As you know, many of the first year healers are sent to other hospitals once they are finished that primary year. I want you to stay here and become a full member of the St. Mungo's staff." A faint twinkle came into Shawdi's eyes as she continued to speak. "Who knows, maybe someday you will be sitting here in this chair when I leave."

Hermione was still for a moment before letting out a happy cry. She had been terrified that she would be sent away after she had finished the customary year, but with this knowledge her spot at St. Mungo's had been assured. In all actuality, she had just about been told that someday she would be the head healer of this ward. A bright smile spread across her weary face as she thanked the woman sincerely. She rose to her feet, suddenly feeling far stronger than she had when she arrived, to go back to start checking up on some of the patients when Healer Shawdi stopped her.

"Hermione, you have done enough today. Go home and rest, I don't want to put one of my medi-witches into a bed here because of exhaustion."

She nodded, secretly relieved, and exited the office. She leaned back against a wall and tilted her head against the cool plaster, a blinding smile on her tired features. She let out a soft sigh and she started to move once more, knowing that there was one person out there who would be just as happy for her as she felt then when told about this news. Warmth spread through her chest as she took of her transfigured, dirty robes and bundled them up beneath her arm. She pulled her wand from the holster on her forearm and tucked an unruly curl behind her ear. The first thing to be done, however, when she got home would be to take a shower and wash the blood and grime from her body. She stepped onto the apparation pad and held her want tightly as she sent herself home.

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_Review and feed me, I have been very hungry lately. _

_Blessed Be_

_Ame_


	9. Breaking the Habit

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: I actually updated quickly so you should be proud of me. Okay, this chapter should make the title of the previous one oh so clear and it also explains a lot of Ron's behaviour. Another thing, I surprise myself with how much hatred I write Ron with when he's actually pretty much my favourite character, excluding Severus and Viktor, in the entire series. Strange that, but then that's writing for you. Oh! And this chapter gives this story its name! I love when this happens!

* * *

Breaking the Habit

Chapter Nine – Breaking the Habit

In what felt like a heartbeat, nearly three months had passed since the day the couple admitted their feelings for each other and had begun a relationship. Viktor had remained in the country so he could be with Hermione, not wanting to miss a moment of being with her. She, however, seemed to be spending more time at the hospital. She had been moved temporarily to the birthing ward and spent most of her time up to her elbows in placenta and blood, though she reflected the later was not particularly different from her previous position.

Except, she found that spending all that time around newborn children and, for the most part, happy couples created a certain longing for such a thing. When she went home at night and watched her boyfriend, she could see themselves in those roles. She knew that he would be a wonderful father, if the way he treated her was anything to go by, and hoped that someday they could have a family. She felt that thinking in such a way was putting too much trust in the future, especially while the war with the Dark was still raging.

Yet, she could not extinguish that spark that had come to life in her heart. Perhaps it was because it was her instincts telling her to get a move because her biological clock was ticking or it might have had something to do with the warm memories she had of her own childhood. She pulled herself from such thoughts as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and hurried down a dark street. She had stayed at St. Mungo's longer than she had intended and when she had finished with her last patient, she realized that it had grown late.

Her breath hung in front of her face in a cloud and her toes ached from cold. It was close to Christmas and the earth had frozen up. A shiver raked her frame a particularly frigid breeze buffeted against her, making the hem of her cloak flutter. She paid little attention to the exact direction she was going, her eyes fixed on the ground to keep herself from slipping on the treacherously icy ground. This proved to be her downfall for she bumped into someone and let out a soft squeak as she found herself suddenly off balance. Had this person not grabbed her arms, she would have tumbled. She turned her face up to the man and smiled, before she realized who he was.

"Thank…Ronald!" She cried, immediately trying to twist out of his grasp.

She had not seen him in about two months and the sheer shock of seeing him made her freeze. His fingers dug into her biceps as he stared down at her, a look of intense hatred twisting his boyishly handsome face. She immediately tried to twist out of his hold but found it entirely impossible to free herself. Either she had grown weaker or he had definitely built up more muscle since the last time he imprisoned her.

"Let me go!"

"Unless I don't remember right, I'd say you still belong to me." He growled, those cornflower blue eyes of his glowing with sick depravity.

A scowl wrinkled her forehead as she glared at him. "I _never_ belonged to you. I am no object to be owned, Ronald. You never seemed to understand that. I am my own person and am beholden unto no one. If you don't let me go, so help me Goddess I'll…"

"You'll what? Scream for help? If you haven't noticed, Hermy, nobody's around. There's no one here to save you from little old me."

She shuddered at the nickname and tried to quash the despair bubbling up inside of her. He was right; they seemed to be the only two people in the world. They were completely alone and she rapidly swallowed the balloon of fear clogging her throat. Forcing herself to find some of that Gryffindor courage, or at least some bravado, fire sprang into her gaze.

"I don't need anyone to save me." She spat. "_You_ clearly haven't noticed that I'm not some damsel in distress. I never have been and I don't ever intend to be." That was partly a lie, for she knew she truly had been helpless before Viktor reemerged into her life and gave her something to live for. "And even if I was, there is one person who would not think twice about saving me."

He let out a hiss. "Krum…He hasn't dumped you yet? You were a terrible girlfriend and an even worse fuck. Oh wait," he mocked, "does he tell you that he loves you? You know that's only so he can get into your knickers. It sure as hell worked with you."

An icy dart burrowed through her heart as the memory of giving her virginity to this man suddenly sprang to mind. Tears sprung to the corners of her eyes and she tried not to sniffle to force them away. Her first time had been nothing like what happened in those romance novels she secretly read. If anything, it was the exact opposite. While it had not been rape, that came later, he had thrust into her a few times and then climaxed. Not to mention, he barely fulfilled that instinctive need to be filled.

As she felt herself drowning in terror, the warmth and tenderness Viktor showed her reappeared. Suddenly her spine was infused with steel and even Ronald saw something change in her hues. That certain weakness he always played upon disappeared, almost as if someone had snatched it away. Her knee jerked forward quickly and connected with his groin. He let out a pathetic noise as his crotch was crushed and free her, bringing his hands down to cup himself. She jerked backwards and pressed herself against the far alley wall, watching him for a moment. She drew her wand out of her dirty healer's robes and pointed at him, rapidly digging through her brain for a sufficient curse.

One came to and a soft smirk spread across her lips. She whispered the word, almost as if it was too hideous to speak loudly, and a stream of delicate gold light trickled from the corner of her wand. Her expression held darkness as he fell and began to writhe, small choking noises slipping from his throat. A sense of pride rushed through her as she realized what she had done, what had taken her so long to do. She finally broke the habit of giving in and being weak, she had found her strength.

As she turned to leave, she murmured. "Feel what I felt."

She cast a final glance over her shoulder and felt her stomach lurch. His robes had bunched up as he twisted and on his left forearm, burnt into his freckled pale skin, the Dark Mark hung ominously. Sickness pooled in her abdomen as a hoarse sob escaped her. Without pausing to think, she shoved her wand back into her robes and fled.

* * *

Lucky for her, Harry had bought a house in Diagon Alley not long after they all graduated and had told her that she would be always welcome. She stumbled to across the slick road and hit the front door with her fist, her petite body shaking with the intensity of her tears. She might hate Ronald, but his betrayal cut her deeply. She could have handled him being an abusive bastard, but with the added knowledge that he had aligned himself with the darkness that killed without caring, raped and destroyed all things good it made her ill.

The door opened and her balled hand stopped centimeters from Harry's chest. She had not seen him for so long, but she spared no time for greetings and simply flung herself at him. His arms rose unbidden around her and he bodily pulled her into his home, closing the door behind them. He somehow got her into the sitting room and onto the sofa. He sat down beside her and let her sob into his shoulder, bewildered. Her words were lost in the force of her weeping and each time she sucked in a breath to speak, she choked on the horror of what she knew. She pulled away after a few moments, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, as she gripped his hands tightly.

"Hermione…" He asked quietly, his voice concerned.

Overwhelming love for her best friend swamped her as a faint smile tugged at her lips. But that smile faded as the seriousness of her news stole any joy from her.

Ignoring her tears, she spoke. "I haven't been very honest with you the past year." He opened his mouth, but she shook her head quickly. "By the end of this, you'll be crying too. This is going to be so hard for me to say, so please don't interrupt me. My relationship with Ronald went sour a little before the last Christmas when I lost my maidenhood to him. He stopped becoming the sweet and kind boy I had fallen in love with. He hit me for the first time on the first of February. I thought it was only because he lost his temper with me, that it would only be that one time.

Oh Goddess, I was so wrong. Since then, his temper only got worse. You remember the last time we came to dinner with you? He got so angry when he saw you touch me in that chaste hug. He forced himself on me when we got home." She closed her eyes for a moment as a fresh wave of misery washed over her. "Again and again as the weeks passed he would rape me. Harry, he broke me. I cannot even begin to describe the pain that tore me apart and shattered my spirit…" She trailed off and looked down at their twined hands, sniffling.

He suddenly embraced her and pulled her against his large frame, hugging her tightly. It was then she heard his breathing catching in the back of his throat and realized that he too was crying. She pulled out of his embrace and smiled in a watery way. She tenderly brushed his tears off of his face, before leaning her head against his shoulder. She knew then how much she had missed her completely platonic, but so affectionate relationship with Harry Potter. The phrase that a person did not know how much they had until they lost it really made sense to her then as she basked in the completely accepting love that seemed to radiate from him.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you. I should have seen it! We stopped seeing each other and in the rare occurrence I saw you, you looked so terrified and small. Oh Gods, I'm so sorry…" His face was buried in her hair as his torso shook as he cried from the intensity of his guilt. "I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you when we graduated and I failed you. I failed you…"

She looked up at him and shook her head, catching his cheeks into her hands. "No Harry, you could never fail me. Please, don't cry."

"But I couldn't save you, you are all alone with him."

She sighed faintly and she shook her head once more. "No, I'm not. Viktor rescued me from him, he took me away from my hell."

Harry's tears began to dry as his eyes widened in surprise. "Krum? I thought you stopped talking to him…"

"I had." She murmured, a faraway expression on her face. "But I guess he was meant to be here with me. We actually live together now."

"You what!"

A delicate flush rose along her cheekbones as their sadness faded away. "We live together, though we have yet to sleep together. I-I'm not ready for that just yet." She once again remembered what had first set her off and cleared her throat.

"What is it?"

"Harry…You won't believe me when I say this and I wouldn't tell this to you if I had not seen it with my own eyes."

"Just tell me, you know I'll believe you. You've never been anything but truthful with me, excluding this past year."

She breathed in deeply as if readying herself for what she was about to say. "Ronald is a Death Eater. I saw his Dark Mark."

Perhaps if she had not just told him about what she had experienced under said Death Eater's hands, he would have laughed such a comment off as make believe. But the look of such horrified conviction in her caramel coloured orbs and the way her fingers picked at the loose threads at her robes conveyed the truth. He let out a pained noise, the colour leeching out of his face.

"H-He betrayed us…"

"I know." She whispered, feeling the exact same hurt he was.

His arms went back around her and they simply sat there on his couch, quietly thinking and crying about the loss and perfidy of their best friend. When Harry moved some time later, he found the weight of Hermione to be entirely still and her chest moving in the rhythmic breathing of sleep. He carefully laid her down on the sofa and conjured a blanket with his wand, settling it over her small body. He would floo Viktor and tell him where she was, but at that moment he needed his best friend more than her boyfriend did.

* * *

Please review because it makes me happy and I updated quickly!

Blessed Be

Ame


	10. Completion

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the plot. I know I cannot be the first to do something like this._

_Author Note: Yes, it has been months since I last updated and I apologize most fervently to you all. I would not be surprised if I have lost most of my readers and while the thought saddens me, I know it is my fault. Eh, for the length of time I've been gone, this chapter isn't so long. Rest assured, the next update will be longer than this one. We've finally come to the darkest portion of the story, the final battles and the resounding conflicts. Joy. This chapter is about as close to lemons as you'll get considering that this is pretty much my first time writing something smutty. I figure that, perhaps, towards the end of this story you might actually get a complete one. Anyway, you have been warned. There are mild lemons in this chapter. If such offends you, do not read. There will be a brief summary at the bottom of the page. Enjoy._

* * *

Breaking the Habit

Chapter Ten - Completion

When Hermione had awoken from her grief induced slumber, Viktor had been waiting to take her into his arms. To say the least, his compassion was enough for tears to pool in her eyes and she could barely contain her pain. He held her close and murmured sweet nothings into her ear, all the while smoothing his calloused hands down her back. He knew how to calm her, how to make her feel like the world was a better place with him near.

She smiled affectionately down at him and brushed some of his dark hair away from his forehead. He had held her for hours after she regained consciousness, uncaring to his own weariness. He succumbed to exhaustion once she noticed how tired he looked and forced him to lie down. They had taken up temporary residence in the guest room of Harry's house, the young auror giving them permission to stay as he left to go to work.

Her heart still felt heavy with sickening grief and she doubted that the feeling would ever leave her. Ronald's transgressions could never be truly forgiven, for he forsaken all he had once held dear for a chance at the power that lured so many to the Dark Lord's service. She shook her head sadly and curled up against the comforting bulk of Viktor's body. He merely made a noise without waking up and accommodating her form to his.

His arm wrapped around her waist as if to secure her against him and she absently stroked the skin along the backs of his hands and wrists. They had been dating for several months and during that time she had been so surprised at how understanding he was about her insecurities. He had barely been able to touch her in the beginning without her choking on that instinctive fear welling up in her throat.

Instead of forcing himself on her like Ronald did, he gave her the space and time she needed to become acquainted with physical affection once more. Soon they started to make progress and his caressed became something she craved instead of making her shudder. She rolled over in his hold and looked up at him, splaying her hands against his chest. Being this close to him made those doubts of hers disappear, the musky smell of him made her head swim and heat flood her veins.

She let out a shaky breath and felt glad suddenly that he had slept for some time, for the sudden confidence in her whispered that he would get little rest for what remained of the night. A wicked jolt went through her at such thoughts and she shifted so their faces became closer. His breath puffed softly against her nose and she brushed her mouth against his, gently pecking him. She pulled away to simply look at him and to her surprise, found his eyes open.

He watched her calmly and one of his hands sliding up to cup her cheek. The other curved around her waist and he drew her body flush against him, delighting in the way they seemed to fit together seamlessly. The hand on her face slipped around to tangle in the curls at the base of her neck and he descended down upon her. A shiver ran through her as his mouth pressed against hers, the kiss remaining moderately chaste until he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips.

She instinctively parted them and was rewarded by the appearance of that thick strip of muscle. Their tongues twined together as her fingers curled in his hair and she ran her fingernails across his scalp as the room seemed to grow hotter. The hand on her side began to slip down to the hem of her shirt and it felt like an electric shock went through her when the heat of his palm connected with the soft skin of her hip.

She suddenly felt glad that she had opted to wear nothing more than the thin t-shirt she had beneath her robes and her knickers to sleep in that night. His fingers crept up her side, following the indent of her slim waist to the slight bumps of her ribs beneath her flesh. She grew still when the calloused tips of his fingers stroked the side of her breast and let out a little sigh into his mouth. His hand slid over the delicate swell and squeezed it, her nipple beginning to pebble at his touch.

A short gasp escaped her at the sensation and the contact of their mouths was broken as she pulled away. A shudder gripped her as he rolled the sensitive nub between two of his fingers, teasing it into stiffness. He transferred his hand to her other breast after a few more moments of stimulation and chuckled quietly when she arched her back so the soft globe pressed into his palm. He pressed his lips against the side of her neck before looking down at her with a wicked grin on his face.

"You like that, yes?"

When she realized that he was no longer touching her, a line appeared over her brow and she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her small hands grasped the hem of her t-shirt and jerked it up over her head. The article of clothing fell over the edge of the bed and then the realization that for the first time she was naked from the waist up in front of Viktor hit her.

A delicate flush spread across her cheeks and her arms rose to cover her chest. Their eyes met and the gleam in his hues caused her to falter. There was none of the filthy lust that she had grown used to seeing in Ronald's gaze, just an intense hunger that caused goose bumps to form on her skin. His fingers rose and brushed over the swell of her breast.

A sigh rose from the base of her throat and she unconsciously leaned into his touch. As one, they came together and he devoured her mouth, reveling in the sweetness that was Hermione. Her hands ghosted over his back as she shifted into his lap, desperately needing to feel his skin against hers. The ribbed material of his wife beater rubbed against the sensitive crowns of her breasts and she let out a shuddering breath.

"I do believe you are wearing too many clothes." She whispered, her voice quavering.

In a slow movement, she helped him get the shirt off of his torso and in that first instant of skin on skin contact, she realized that for once in her life something was going exactly the way it should. A smile spread across her mouth as one of his hands curved against the small of her back, his thumb slipping beneath the elastic band to her simple cotton underwear.

He gently lowered her down onto the bed and she instinctively cradled his body in her hips. As they finally become one he showed her that sex could be more than the breaking humiliation she had experienced with Ronald, but something that brought hope and light to her torn spirit that Viktor alone could heal.

* * *

Some time later, Hermione pulled her discarded t-shirt back over her head and let out a soft squeak when her lover gently smacked her rump as he searched the area about the bed for his pants. Those last frenzied seconds before he had entered her were a blur and the exact location of the errant clothing escaped him. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he threw a covert glance at his girlfriend.

Her passionate reaction to his advances surprised him. He had expected her to shy away from his touch and stammer apologies for the atrocities that monster commit against her. Yet, she had given herself fully to him and, from his point of view, she had apparently enjoyed the experience. He let out a pleased noise when he found his pants hidden beneath part of the comforter and pulled them on over his dark green boxers.

He sunk down onto the foot of the bed as he tugged his wife beater back onto his chest and simply let his eyes follow Hermione's every move. It was clear that by sharing herself completely with him some of her insecurities that bastard had beaten into her were burnt away by the power of the truth he showed her. Her shoulders no longer hunched in just enough to give her the air of a person constantly prepared for an attack and she carried herself with the strength and grace he remembered from the year he stayed at Hogwarts.

So many people thought a relationship between an eighteen year old boy and a fourteen year old girl was unpleasant, that he was taking advantage of her. That was about as far away from the real reason as humanly possible. Within the teenage Hermione, he had seen the potential for a woman that he knew deep within his bones he would be able to spend his life with. A common misconception about him was that he was utterly fixated on Quidditch and his dislike for all things scholarly would be a driving force keeping them apart.

It had been partially true before he met her, but seeing her dedication to the academics he knew that if he ever wanted to be considered more than a friend in her eyes he would have to re-immerse himself within books. Perhaps, when his ability to remember scores of Quidditch statistics and control a splinter of wood hundreds of feet above the ground with such ease, things like Potions and History of Magic came naturally and he found that he actually enjoyed learning these subjects.

When he learnt that Hermione was looking for an apprenticeship in Potions a few weeks back, he made the decision to accept the open spot for Seeker on the British Quidditch team. The Vrasta Vultures, the national team of Bulgaria, had slowly begun to loose its strongest players and Viktor knew that the time had come to find greener pastures. That decision, he knew, would only allow this relationship between him and Hermione blossom further.

His parents would be pleased that the only girl they had heard him rave about for countless years finally saw their son as a dating material. That thought caused him to grin as pride overwhelmed him. He, Viktor Krum, had successfully wooed the girl of his dreams to his side. He snapped out of his thoughts when a warm body descended onto his lap. His hands automatically rested on her hips and she kissed him lightly.

"What has you smiling so brightly?" She asked quietly, her cinnamon eyes shining with contentment.

He merely nuzzled his nose into her neck, before pulling back slowly. "Ve should probably leave. Vhile Harry vould like to spend more time with you, I'm sure, I am feeling very selfish at the moment."

She laughed brightly and nodded. She gave him a brief, tender hug before slipping off of his thighs. While the soul shocking betrayal of Ronald still shown bleakly through her momentary happiness, he knew that with time this wound would begin to heal. She would always have him there to protect her from the memories of that dark period of her life. His arm unconsciously slid around her waist once he was standing and he watched her scrawl a quick note to her remaining school mate.

She set the parchment down on a small table near the door and the slipped her hand into his, gently prying his arm from around her body. Flashing him a quick smile, they stepped into the glowing emerald fireplace together and into their future together.

* * *

_Unless you missed the above author's note commenting on how this is the beginning of the final darkness, this is not the last chapter. It's just the closing of the first half of the story. Their relationship is solidified enough where Hermione now fully understands that Viktor will be there for her, as will Harry. Ron's deception has been revealed and his relationship with Hermione is finally fully over. Even though there will be much angsty goodness, never fear, the fluff shall return eventually. _

_**Brief Summary of Chapter:**_

_Hermione wakes up in Viktor's arms after passing out from grief upon realizing Ron's betrayal. They cemented their relationship physically and have started their new life together. It seems as if nothing will be able to stand in their way or tear them apart._

_Hokai, please review, for the starving writer would greatly appreciate it!_

_Blessed Be_

_Ame_


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